


Twirling 'Round with this Familiar Parable Part II

by pterawaters



Series: Triad Verse [5]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Rewrite, Canon-Typical Violence, Druid Stiles, Druids, F/M, M/M, Mild Gore, Multi, Polyamory, Season/Series 03, Slow Build, Suicidal Thoughts, Triad Verse, Triad Verse AU, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-21
Updated: 2014-03-31
Packaged: 2017-12-20 05:48:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 10
Words: 85,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/883651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pterawaters/pseuds/pterawaters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The hunt for Erica and Boyd leads Derek, Isaac, and Stiles to the alpha pack, something which Scott can't stay ignorant of any longer. Meanwhile, Allison returns to Beacon Hills from Paris only to find an even bigger mess than she left and Jen finds the good and the bad in moving to a new town. As sacrifices keep happening and the people of Beacon Hills become more and more at risk of being killed by the Darach, new relationships blossom, the bonds of friendship are tested, and Derek wonders if he'll ever get to have nice things. </p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story takes place in the triad verse, which is an alternate universe (AU) where humankind has developed to normalize triads (relationships consisting of three individuals), rather than couples. Couples can and do form, but they are considered "incomplete" relationships. In most versions of triad verse, couples are unable to marry, but triads are allowed to marry. Bisexuality is also normalized, while monosexual people are less common and more marginalized. A complete guide to triad verse can be found [on LJ](http://ot3solutions.livejournal.com/2291.html) or [on tumblr.](http://pterawaters.tumblr.com/post/54730079739/the-triad-verse-primer) The other stories in this series provide backstory, and probably should be read first. (Also, the title is from a song called Parabola by Tool)
> 
> Follows canon up until the Season Three episode, "Currents". Former chapters 1 and 2 can be found [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/923165/chapters/1793667). I split them off for a more coherent narrative structure. This fic now follows only season 3.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to [thewildestcucumber](http://thewildestcucumber.tumblr.com/) and [dame-c](http://dame-c.tumblr.com/) for looking this over for me! You guys are awesome!

Derek never expected Boyd or Erica to contact him after they left. They'd washed their hands of his pack and they'd washed their hands of him. But the fact that neither had called Isaac _and_ the alpha pack was in town, made Derek concerned to say the least.

And then they left a lock of Erica's hair at the house. Derek hadn't been staying there for quite some time, since he needed an actual address to take custody of Isaac, but he liked to check on the place every day or two. Derek had no illusions – the alpha pack had to know where he was living – yet they chose to leave the message at the old house. That act itself was part of the message.

Just like Derek had failed to protect his family, he was now failing to protect his pack.

The only hope Derek took away from the situation was the fact that the hair smelled clean. It smelled like Erica, but it smelled clean, and nothing like death or decay. She was still alive and the alpha pack was daring Derek to find her, and presumably, Boyd.

"Scott could help us," Isaac said for about the thousandth time. "Why can't we contact him? I know you're pissed about-"

"I'm not angry with Scott," Derek snapped, and despite his manner, it was the truth. "He made his allegiances clear. He's not in our pack, he doesn't need to know. We don't need his help."

Isaac snorted and stormed off, but he came back five minutes later, ready to cooperate. Peter called them both idiots under his breath.

The police questioned Isaac about Boyd and Erica, since he'd been seen with them at school, but Isaac must have said all the right things, because he was back at Derek's hotel room before dark. Derek never got called in, which he chalked up to Isaac's ability to hide the truth and the sheriff department's drastic lack of staff.

Derek got Jackson through his first full moon, and maybe it was because he'd already been changing unconsciously for several months, but he took to being a werewolf like a fish to water. It took him less than ten minutes to find his anchor and control the shift. Derek wasn't surprised when Jackson's father sent him to London. It was probably better he be out of the hunters' reach, given everything he'd done while under someone else's control. Hunters rarely cared about motive or intent when they decided someone was their prey. 

A few weeks into summer, Stiles caught up with Derek and Isaac when they stopped for food at a burger place. Stiles sat down at their table, next to Isaac and diagonal from Derek, and slapped down a piece of paper. It was one of the fliers Erica's mother had made. "What is this? Is this just some sort of wolfy Romeo and Juliet sort of situation, or should I be justifiably concerned that no one has heard from either Erica or Boyd in three weeks?"

For a moment, Derek thought Isaac was going to tell Stiles the truth, but then he looked to Derek. He would follow Derek's lead, which was gratifying.

Derek took his time studying Stiles, thinking about exactly how much to tell him. Derek had seen how surprised he was when Scott's plan against Gerard came to fruition. Either Stiles was a very good actor, or he hadn't known about the plan. And he always acted like werewolves were the same as people, just with different complications, and Derek liked that about him. 

Scott wasn't part of Derek's pack, and Stiles wasn't either. But, Stiles had sought him out. Maybe just out of the desire to be like his father, play cop, solve the mystery, be the hero, and maybe just because he was concerned. The fact that Stiles' motive could be muddled and twofold and impure made Derek more willing to trust him. It was single-minded people who'd ruined Derek's life. Even if Scott's one goal was protecting as many people as possible, he was still so focused on that goal that it honestly scared Derek. When you only had one goal, it was a lot easier to lose sight of everything else and a lot easier to inflict collateral damage. No one knew this better after the last few months than Derek. 

Derek pointed a finger at Stiles and insisted, "Scott can't know about this. You tell him what I'm about to tell you and he's going to get himself killed."

Stiles took a deep breath and looked off into the distance for a moment. Isaac gave Derek an assessing look, like he'd done something surprising. Couldn't Derek be concerned about Scott without anyone questioning him? Stiles blew out a loud breath and met Derek's eyes as he nodded. "What Scotty doesn't know can't hurt him."

"That's not exactly true, though," Isaac said, but Derek cut him off with a gesture.

"We'll tell Scott when he needs to know, but no earlier." Derek turned the flier around so he could read it. He sighed. "They've been taken hostage."

"What?" Stiles asked loudly, drawing the attention of the people around them. Luckily, Stiles noticed this and toned himself down to an angry whisper. "By who? Who would take a couple of _werewolves_ hostage? Don't they know what a colossally bad idea that is? No, we have to tell Scott. I mean-"

"No," Derek insisted, clapping his hand over the one Stiles had on the table to get his attention. "No. The people who took them are a pack of alphas. You remember how difficult it was to take down Peter? Any one of them makes that look like child's play. They are not to be fucked around with, okay?"

Stiles pulled his hand away and rubbed at it with the other one. "Okay, I get it. Alphas big and scary, I'm just a little peon, got it. Now what are you doing about this?" He jabbed a finger at the flier.

"We've been searching the city," Isaac said, looking to Derek before he continued speaking. Derek nodded. "We're trying to figure out where Boyd and Erica are being held. Once we know that, we can come up with a rescue plan."

"And I don't want Scott finding out and going after them half-cocked," Derek added.

"You really think that little of him?" Stiles scoffed, but when Derek raised an eyebrow at him, Stiles actually shrugged in acquiescence. "So, where do we start?"

"We start by finishing our fries," Isaac said, which made Derek smirk and Stiles gape. "Fries are a very important part of the process."

For the next few weeks, it felt like a puzzle piece had slotted into place. Stiles came up with zoning maps and blueprints and a systematic search plan, while Derek, Isaac, and Peter (who was still weak), followed through on the plan.

Peter had to rest fairly frequently, so more often than not, it was just Stiles, Isaac, and Derek. Derek had never encountered the phenomenon before, but he began to understand why common sense said that three people couldn't have a close, platonic relationship. As Derek's respect for and trust of Stiles grew, his bond with Isaac began to feel stronger as well. But Derek knew he couldn't trust his feelings. Especially not around people who were not only much younger than him, but were also relying on his guidance and leadership. He was not going to exploit that trust for temporary gratification. Derek would _never_ become like the people he hated most in the world.

~*~

Stiles got this feeling sometimes that Scott knew Stiles wasn't telling him the whole truth. Scott never mentioned it, though. He never asked where Stiles was going or where he'd been. Scott stayed in a lot, he read, he worked out. Stiles joined his brother in these things fairly often, but he couldn't stay in the house all summer. It was a thing that was physically impossible for him to do.

Stiles had a feeling Scott knew this about him, but Scott didn't say anything. He didn't mention the fact that during all the previous summers, he and Stiles had been practically joined at the hip, and this summer they just weren't. If Stiles smelled like Derek's new place, Scott never mentioned it. Neither did Stiles.

Maybe Scott wanted to stay out of things as much as Derek wanted to keep him in the dark. He'd always complained about being a werewolf and wanting to be normal. Maybe he was taking the summer to pretend it was true. In front of Scott, that's what Stiles did - he pretended there was no such thing as monsters. As far as Stiles could tell, Mima hadn't told Dad, either. 

One day, fresh off a disappointing few hours of searching, Stiles came home to find Mima alone in the house. "Your father took Scott to the bookstore to get his summer reading. He was eager to get a jump on it this year."

"Yeah, that sounds about right," Stiles said, taking one of the Chips Ahoy from the cookie jar and stuffing all of it in his mouth. "He really wants to get his grades up after this last semester."

Mima looked down at her coffee cup and tapped the ceramic with her wedding ring. It was a nervous habit, so Stiles knew it was his duty to pull up a chair and ask, "What's wrong?"

Mima frowned and shrugged. "Oh, you know."

"Scott's a werewolf and Dad doesn't know about it?" Stiles grinned. "Dude, I have _been there_!"

"I should have told him right after... But you both had to go to the hospital and I just-"

"We're both totally fine," Stiles insisted. "Dad's got the hardest head I've ever seen."

Laughing, Mima nodded in agreement and took another sip of her coffee. "It takes more than a little supernatural lizard venom to slow you down, doesn't it, monkey-boy?"

"Mi-maa!" Stiles groaned. "Don't call me that!"

Mima put her hand on Stiles' face, pushing him playfully and laughing.

The air between them calmed and after a moment, Stiles asked, "So why didn't you tell him?"

"I don't know," Mima said with another sigh. "At first I didn't believe it myself. And then more and more time passed and I felt worse and worse for keeping it from him. Now I almost don't want him to know."

"Yeah. I know what you mean." Stiles grabbed another cookie. "I've known for six months and lying to him at this point is like a reflex. Automatic."

"I don't like it," Mima said, pushing her mug away and grabbing for one of the cookies. "I don't like lying to your father about _everything_. I'm afraid of what this is going to do to us." She shoved a cookie in her mouth.

"No, you guys are good!" Stiles insisted. "I mean you made it through..." He swallowed nervously. "You made it through what happened to Mom. You can get through something as stupid as this."

Mima laughed sadly. "Yeah, because this is _totally_ the same thing."

"Well, maybe not exactly the same thing," Stiles allowed. "But still rough. And I bet Dad finds out eventually. He has a knack for finding things out."

"Yeah, you're probably right." Taking one last, deep sigh, Mima put her mug in the sink and pulled Stiles down until she could place a kiss on his cheek. "Keep yourself and your brother out of trouble, okay, kiddo?"

"Yeah, okay, Mima." Stiles ran his hand down Mima's arm as she walked away. "It's gonna be great. You'll see!"

~*~

Soon after breaking up with Scott, when the dust settled, Allison finally saw how wrong she had been. She'd been blinded by pain and anger and fear, and had given into the urge for revenge. When her Dad suggested they leave the country, Allison jumped at the chance. 

She lost herself in the new _everything_ that France had to offer, though she turned down the one romantic overture she received. It happened when she and her Dad split up for a few hours and Allison spent her time munching on a treat from the bakery (the name of which she couldn't pronounce) and wandering the streets. "Pardon, Mademoiselle?"

Allison looked down from the bridge she'd been studying to see a pair of boys about her age smiling at her. One had dark hair and the other reddish blonde. They were holding hands. "Oh, _je ne parle pas_. I'm American."

"Beautiful American woman," the redhead said with a little bow. "I'm Jean, this is Alex. We're pleased to make your acquaintance!"

Allison let herself fantasize for a second what her life could be like if she were someone else, if she didn't have the specter of her mother's death at werewolf hands clawing at her psyche. Allison nodded politely. "I'm sorry. I can't..."

She walked away, knowing it was a once in a lifetime opportunity. But Allison knew herself, and she knew she wasn't ready to even think about what had happened with Scott. There was no way she'd be ready for the real deal (or something like it) anytime soon.

Knowing that, Allison decided, once and for all, that this year was going to be about her and making sure she was okay being by herself. That was how you grew a stable relationship, wasn't it? Be okay with yourself, then be okay as part of a couple, then be okay as a triad. That's how it always went in the movies, anyway.

~*~

"Do you," Peter asked, striding into Derek's loft like he owned the place, "have any idea what you're up against?"

Derek rolled his eyes. "I'm aware of what the alpha pack is, Peter."

"No, you know _stories_ ," Peter insisted. "You know stories that were told to you to scare you into doing your chores. You never heard the truth."

Getting fed up with Peter's bullshit, Derek crossed his arms over his chest. "And just what is the truth? Or is that too much to ask, coming from you?"

Peter laughed humorlessly. "That's right, Derek. Keep making jokes. It's a wonder you're still here to begin with."

Uneasy in his skin, Derek huffed and took a step toward Peter. "That's what I don't understand. They took two of us and then _nothing_. It's been almost three months. We've scoured the city looking for Boyd and Erica, and we haven't been attacked once. Are we even sure they're still here?"

"They won't leave without getting what they want," Peter insisted, circling around Derek, his boot heels clacking against the wood floor. "And I very much doubt they wanted two cut-rate betas. No, they're going to use Erica and ... Boyd, was it?" Peter sneered. "The alphas are going to use them against you somehow."

"Wow. That's just...extremely helpful, Peter. Thank you," Derek said, his voice thick with sarcasm and frustration. "I want to talk about when we find them. What sort of muscle are we talking about here?"

Peter tilted his head and winced, like he was imagining the fighting to come. "With an alpha, it's more about the brains and the will than the brawn." He poked one of Derek's biceps. "Maybe that's your problem, Derek. Too much brawn, not enough brain."

Derek slapped Peter's hand away, but there wasn't any intent to harm. Peter could barely run anymore, and Derek was fairly certain his senses of smell and hearing were almost human. Of course, weakness didn't mean Peter was telling the truth, but he could have been.

"Whatever they're up to, they're giving us time," Derek pointed out. "So let's use this time to come up with a plan. You said it's more brains than brawn? Let's go after the brains of the operation. Cut off the head, the body falls with it."

Peter stared at Derek for a moment, his face blank. Then he smirked. "Maybe you're not as hopeless as I feared, Nephew. But don't forget the lesson of the hydra. You cut off one of its heads-"

"And two more take its place, I know." Derek huffed. "But we don't know if this alpha pack is a hydra or not, and we have to do _something_."

"Well, what about, 'If you can't beat 'em, join 'em'?" Peter swiped his finger across Derek's desk and frowned at the dust he picked up. "I mean, you'll probably have to do something distasteful to prove your loyalty, but it's better than being dead, isn't it?"

Derek had heard far too much about the alpha pack to ever be comfortable joining them, so he knew it wasn't a real possibility. Nevertheless, he told Peter, "If they ask for good faith, I'll give them your head. How does that sound?"

Peter tutted with a smirk. "Let's hope it doesn't come to that. After all, I'm the only family you have left."

Derek's stomach dropped whenever Peter mentioned that fact, but he reigned in the urge to lash out at Peter for deliberately baiting him like this. Instead, Derek rolled his eyes and turned his back on Peter, acknowledging him as harmless. Peter scoffed and walked away, probably to crawl back into whatever hole he kept as his hiding place these days.

Derek still wasn't sure how to approach the alpha pack, or even if he should. If he ran, would they follow, or would they stay and hurt everyone Derek had so much as talked to? The thought made Derek give up his dream of running away in favor of digging in his heels instead. This might not have been a fight he could win, but it wasn't a fight he was walking away from. Not yet.

~*~

Jen had wanted to move to Beacon Hills near the beginning of the summer, but she couldn't get out of her previous lease and she couldn't afford to pay double rent for more than a week. So, she stayed in Hartford until her lease was up, then sold her furniture and put the rest of her belongings in a shipping container bound for the West Coast. Her car went with the other belongings, so when Jen flew into San Francisco, she rented a car and drove to Beacon Hills from there.

She wanted to spend a day or two exploring San Francisco, but for one, she didn't have enough money for a motel; and for two, that evening was the only time for the next week that Jen's new landlord could meet to give her the keys.

"Family vacation," the woman said when Jen arrived at her office, road weary and bone tired. The woman, Mrs. Perkins, who had obviously-dyed-blonde, frizzy hair and reading glasses attached to a chain which made them rest on her expansive bosom, pointed to a framed picture on her desk. The picture showed Mrs. Perkins and three dogs. Corgis, Jen thought. "I'm taking my babies up into the mountains!"

"Oh, um," Jen said, drawing the keys across Mrs. Perkin's desk and into her lap. "That sounds fun!"

Giving Jen a look, Mrs. Perkins said, "It would have been fun this morning. Now we have to run into weekend traffic on the drive."

Offering a quiet, "Sorry," Jen slipped the keys into her pocket, took the papers Mrs. Perkins shoved at her, and stood up. "I'll see you around?"

"Not for the next week, you won't." Mrs. Perkins gave Jen an obviously fake smile. "Goodbye, dear!"

"Bye."

It took Jen five minutes to get the key to work, during which she alternately believed that she either had the wrong apartment, or Mrs. Perkins had deliberately given her the wrong key out of spite. When she finally did get the door open, Jen fell into the apartment, bruising her knee and scraping up her palm as she fell. "Well if that isn't an omen..."

Sighing, she took a look around. It was bigger than her apartment in Hartford had been, but not by much. However, the sunlight streaming in through the west-facing window made the whole apartment look cheerful, even if it was disconcertingly empty. But, the fridge was cold and the faucets and toilet all worked, so Jen was happy.

She drove into the city and bought herself a camping cot, a sleeping bag, and a lantern. She didn't want to buy any real furniture until she got her first paycheck, and the rest of her things weren't arriving for another week, besides. It was an adventure!

Jen's next stop was the grocery store, even though it was almost eight o'clock at night and pretty dark out. She was used to summer daylight lasting longer since she'd always lived so far north, but it was so dark now that Jen seriously considered starving until daybreak. But she was a strong, independant woman. She'd taken the leap and moved across country. She could brave a dark parking lot and go buy her own fucking groceries.

The grocery store was fairly normal (Jen was still expecting Beacon Hills to be creepier than it appeared), and Jen wandered around without really picking out much. It wasn't like her dishes had arrived yet, so there was a limited selection she could actually use. She did run into a bit of a line at the deli counter. The lone clerk appeared to be about eighty years old, deaf, and so slow-moving that Jen was almost sure she could watch her nails grow faster than this.

The big man in front of Jen kept shifting his weight from foot to foot like he was getting impatient and when he turned to look toward the door, Jen had to consciously keep her jaw from dropping. He was that good looking, with his high cheekbones and his dark, close-cropped beard. Jen stared at the back of his head for a long moment, wondering if she'd ever seen ears that cute on a full grown man.

Eventually, the line moved up and the person ahead of the man started placing their order. Jen sighed and decided that she should probably decide exactly how much potato salad she was capable of eating in the next week before it was her turn. The man in front of Jen turned around and gave her a small, sympathetic smile, like he knew how much it sucked to be waiting in line. The smile made him look much younger than Jen had first guessed and almost distracted her from the absolutely outrageous amount of muscle he was hiding under his jacket. 

Jen's first instinct was to let the man be, but Jen's therapist in Hartford had been on her to make sure she kept reaching out to people and built a good support network in her new town. Leaning forward, she said quietly, "Hey, do you come here a lot? Like, have you tried the potato salad?" _The potato salad? Really, Jen?_

Quirking a cute sort of half smile, like he wasn't used to smiling at all, the man shook his head. "Can't say that I have."

"Darn. I was planning on buying a pound of it and I wanted to know how much trouble I was getting myself into. You think I should go for the macaroni salad instead?"

"I don't really eat mayonnaise," he said, wrinkling his nose. It was so adorable an expression on a big, strong guy, Jen felt like she was going to explode. 

Jen pointed to the man's (probably) rock-hard abs and said, "No, of course you don't. Let me guess," she eyed the man up and down, putting on her best literary analysis mode, and then looked over at the menu. "Hmm, fruit salad and the turkey and avocado sandwich?"

The man snorted and shook his head. "Five pounds of buffalo wings and a carton of potato wedges."

"Seriously?" Jen looked the man up and down again. "That is totally not fair!"

"It's not just for me," he said, turning his head to one side so he could watch the customer in front of him ask for another packet of deli meat. "My … uh, cousin lives with me. He's sixteen. And his friend is coming over, so..."

"Ah, I know what you mean," Jen said. She leaned forward and whispered conspiratorially, "I teach high school."

The man stooped down a little so he could look Jen right in the eye and said, "I'm so sorry."

Jen laughed and covered her mouth when it turned into an unattractive snort. She was still trying to figure out how to follow his joke without sounding lame, when suddenly it was the man's turn to yell to the clerk what he wanted. When he had his things, he turned around and gave Jen an awkward salute. And then he was gone.

Jen was still staring after him when the clerk cried, "What do you want, honey?" She decided to go for the pound of potato salad, and bought a few buffalo wings, just to see how they tasted.

~*~

Over the summer, in between taking orders for Derek and scouring the streets of Beacon Hills, Isaac thought a lot about Scott. Mostly he thought about the moment when it was clear to Isaac that Scott cared about him as a person. Isaac had never really had that before. 

And god, he wanted it so bad. Isaac dreamed about going over to Scott's house and ringing the door until he answered. Then Isaac would pull Scott into the deepest, most wonderful kiss known to man. Knowing the way things went when Isaac applied himself to a situation, he was bound to mess it up somehow if he actually went through with it. So he didn't.

One night, Isaac was out walking the streets of one of the warehouse districts and thinking about how perfect Scott's smile was when he caught a whiff of Boyd's scent.

Having been as close to Boyd as two bodies could get, Isaac recognized the scent instantly. It wasn't fresh, but it was the closest they'd gotten since Boyd and Erica had run away. Isaac tracked the smell carefully, sniffing the scent through the ins and outs of the various buildings around them. It led him to a laundry service truck.

An as-good-as empty laundry service truck.

There were no heartbeats inside the truck, so Boyd couldn't be in there unless he was … But, no. The scent was too faded and what little metallic blood smell Isaac could pick up smelled old. The clothes themselves smelled old, like Boyd had worn them for several days straight, and they got saturated with his sweat.

Isaac broke the lock on the truck door easily enough and sniffed his way to the bag with Boyd's clothes in it. The tag on the bag had a return delivery address, and it was three blocks away.

Hands shaking, Isaac pulled his phone out of his pocket so he could call Derek. But the screen showed he had no signal. Isaac grunted in frustration. He knew he should wait until Derek could get there, but with every breath he got more and more angry at whoever had _dared_ take his packmate.

Isaac saw red.

Without another breath wasted on inaction, Isaac started running toward the address. He found it quickly and rounded the building.

The next thing he knew, a girl was helping him run away from the twin alphas behind them. Isaac had no idea what had just happened or who the girl was, but he could tell not cooperating with her would be worse than going with the flow.

The girl saved Isaac from the alphas, but he still didn't know where Boyd was. And yet, Isaac had the feeling that he'd been close, if only he could remember what he'd been doing before he was running with the girl.

~*~

Stiles had been wrestling with this feeling all summer that something bad was coming, but he didn't know what to do with it. Of course something bad was coming. A freaking pack of alphas was leaving symbols on Derek's door and kidnapping wolves and maybe even the girl who'd rescued Isaac. Something bad was already happening.

But Stiles had the feeling it was going to get worse, especially now that Scott knew what was going on. It felt like this pressure in his gut and behind his eyes and Stiles kept pushing it away, kept telling himself that he didn't believe in it (because Deaton had said belief was important, right?) but it didn't go away.

Sitting in English class, reading the first few pages of _Heart of Darkness_ , it only started to feel worse. Something was very, very wrong and it wasn't just the deer that had dive-bombed Lydia's car. It was something bigger than that. Like a ringing in his ears that got louder with every passing breath.

Looking down at the floor to try and calm himself, try and stave off what felt like the beginning of an anxiety attack, Stiles noticed the bandage on Lydia's ankle. It turned out that her dog, her fluffy little sweetheart of a dog, had bit her. The deer went crazy, Lydia's dog went crazy, the world felt like a thunderstorm waiting to happen.

When the first crow ran into the classroom window, Stiles jumped, thinking it had been thunder. But the blackness of the sky wasn't a rainstorm. It was hundreds of crows, headed straight for them. Stiles watched in horror as the new English teacher (who Stiles had decided right off the bat that he loved to death), walked toward the windows like she was in a daze. 

He wanted to call out to her, to tell everyone that something bad was _definitely_ happening, but somehow Stiles couldn't. He couldn't open his big mouth and tell everyone to get the fuck out of there. It felt almost like he was rooted in place, in that trance with Ms. Blake and helpless as the birds came at them. Yeah, this was starting to feel more and more like a panic attack.

And then one of the birds hit the window hard enough to break it and the trance was broken as well. Ms. Blake shouted at everyone to get down, and Stiles' first reaction was to throw himself over Lydia. There was no way Lydia freaking Martin was getting killed by a murder of crows. Not if Stiles could help it.

When the dust cleared and Lydia pushed him away (with a little bit of a stink-eye, so how's that for gratitude in the face of Stiles' heroic actions), Stiles didn't know what to do with himself. Ms. Blake, shaking, asked if everyone was okay. The teacher from next door, who must have heard the racket, took one look at the devastated classroom and announced loudly that he was calling the cops.

Stiles wished he wouldn't. Sure, the cops would make the other students feel better, but it wouldn't keep his Dad away from what was obviously supernatural bullshit at work. Yes, Mima was involved with everything now and that had worked out okay, but Stiles couldn't face the idea of telling his Dad about werewolves. It was a secret he didn't need to know.

It was a secret Ms. Blake didn't need to know either, from the look of her. Sitting there with that dazed expression and a feather stuck in her messed-up hair, she looked so lost. She'd been so cool at the beginning of class, and so brave protecting her students, and now, in the aftermath, Stiles knew how she felt. Something insane had just gone down and without a framework to deal with it, your brain tried to come up with anything to fill the gaps.

Feeling like maybe he could help her, maybe snap her back into the present, Stiles approached his teacher. She was pretty, in an older woman sort of way, and his heart beat a little faster being this close to her, but that didn't stop Stiles from reaching forward and pulling the feather out of her hair. Ms. Blake startled and looked up at him, so Stiles showed her the feather in explanation.

"Thanks," she said softly, rubbing one arm with the opposite hand - a self-comforting gesture according to Dad's interrogation manuals.

"Yeah, no problem."

Stiles was about to leave and give Ms. Blake some space when she laughed sadly. "This place, Beacon Hills, really is different, isn't it?"

Stiles couldn't help but chuckle. "Ms. Blake, you have no idea."

They shared a smile and then Ms. Blake took her turn to get checked out by the paramedics, so Stiles went back to his phone, texting Scott and trying to figure out what was happening.

~*~

As he left Derek's old place, arm still sore and brain full, Scott looked over at his brother. He had a feeling that Stiles had known more about the alpha pack than he let on. In fact, everything seemed to slot into place. Stiles had been helping Derek over the summer and they'd both left Scott out of it.

Scott wanted to feel hurt or angry, but mostly he felt sad that his brief respite from all things werewolf was now over. Now that he knew there was a threat, that Boyd and Erica hadn't just run away, he had to do something about it. Not knowing had actually been nice and Scott couldn't resent his brother for giving that to him.

The only thing Scott felt sad about was that he hadn't been able to spend much time with Isaac over the summer, and now Isaac was healing massive wounds caused by an alpha pack Scott hadn't even known about. But he was in Derek's care and that was fine, wasn't it? Derek _was_ Isaac's alpha, was the guy he'd been living with since the custody papers went through (which Scott had overheard Dad talking about). Isaac was fine without Scott. Allison was fine without Scott.

And Scott was fine without them. He'd actually done his summer reading, he'd finished all the extra credit and summer school he needed to finish so the school would let him move up to junior year, and except for Stiles' random disappearances, things were really good at home. So, Scott was fine. He had been fine.

But now he had to think about Isaac dealing with just Derek (and probably Stiles) as his support system and the thought made Scott cringe. He loved Stiles dearly, but despite everything he'd been through, he wasn't very good at empathy unless he took the time to slow down and focus on what other people might be feeling. And Derek was probably the least empathetic person Scott had ever met. What if Isaac needed him and Scott just wasn't there because of a decision the three of them had made to keep him out of the loop?

Scott started to get angry, but then he reminded himself he was supposed to be a better Scott this year. A better person. And a better person took the high road, right? He let bygones be bygones and faced the issues of the present, not the past. (One of his mom's self-help books may have gotten mixed in with Scott's summer reading. Maybe. Okay, yeah, it had. Okay, it was Scott's book, which he bought with his own money. But it had been helpful, okay?)

Riding in the car next to Stiles, Scott ran his hand over his new tattoo again. It did feel like an open wound, like the holes in his heart that Scott wanted to fill with people but knew he had to fill with his own self-confidence first. Scott spotted Stiles frowning at the tattoo again, which made him laugh. "You really hate it that much?"

"No!" Stiles insisted. "No, I love it, buddy. I just … like, why _two_ bands? Why not three? What does two even mean?"

Scott shrugged. "It just kind of came to me. I guess there's two sides of a coin, two sides of me."

"Huh." Stiles watched the road for a long moment and Scott smiled. It wasn't always that he thought about something his brother hadn't. Scott had to savor the moment while he could.

~*~

Lydia hadn't lost time in months, and now it was happening again. The nightmares had never really gone away, but they weren't as real as the ones Peter had sent her, and they made sense in the context of her life, as it were. But she hadn't lost time since Peter had been resurrected. 

So showing up at the public pool instead of at the pharmacy took a big toll on Lydia's wellbeing. It was about a thousand times worse than getting rammed into by a homicidal deer because she woke up with blood on her hands and a dead body she couldn't explain. And an extra hour had passed that Lydia couldn't account for.

She cleaned her hands thoroughly before calling the cops, scrubbing her skin in the chlorinated pool water and washing the blood away. At least it was fresh and not dried on. Dried blood was just so difficult to get out of every nook and cranny of skin. Not to mention how unhygienic it could be. She didn't know the dead boy. She didn't know where he'd been.

So she called 911, thinking it would be worse not to report it and accidentally leave some evidence behind, and then she called the one person she thought could help. Allison didn't have any pull with law enforcement, Scott would probably be suspicious of Lydia, and Jackson was gone. Who else could she call but Stiles?

And she wanted Stiles to come for her. She couldn't explain it, but his presence was almost comforting. Grounding. Stiles was someone Lydia could always come back to, and she liked that about him. Of course, she also felt bad about it because it was obvious how much he adored her and she just did not feel any sort of attraction for him. The way he yelled at her made Lydia question her good sense in calling him in the first place, but she still felt much calmer with him there than not.

Lydia didn't know what it meant, but she knew she didn't like it. She needed to be her own person, not someone who needed other people to tell her she was okay, to tell her she wasn't crazy for losing time. To tell her it wasn't her fault.

Maybe Lydia just really liked the way Stiles could look at her and see someone infallible and completely innocent, when others couldn't. Maybe she liked the fact that when Stiles called her pretty, Lydia was one hundred percent sure he meant it.

~*~

Isaac let Deaton wrap him in a thick blanket and he let Derek drive him back to the loft and help him into new clothes. Even though it was the end of the summer, Isaac felt chilled to the bone and wrapped a scarf around his neck. Derek tucked Isaac into bed like Isaac was a child and went back out to the main room of the loft to make a plan with Stiles, Peter, and _Scott_. Because Scott knew everything now. Scott was back into the swing of things.

And all Isaac could do was lay on his bed and shiver. It was the full moon tonight. Isaac felt the pull of it, the rise of energy and bloodlust in his veins. Automatically, he reached out for his anchor, and found that memories of his father didn't feel as solid as they used to.

The lingering cold on his skin helped keep Isaac from shifting right away, but how long could that last? He'd warm up and without an anchor, he'd be worse than useless to Derek, and Boyd and Erica. He'd be a liability.

Isaac couldn't remember much about what had happened when he'd been taken. He remembered the vault door. He remembered holding Boyd close and crying with him about Erica. He remembered someone else. He remembered holding onto one memory to get him through it - one image.

Scott's smile. 

Isaac pictured it again. Scott's smile, the way Scott's hand felt against Isaac's shoulder, the way Scott cared about him. Thinking about these things, Isaac shook off some of the remaining chill and anchored himself to his humanity, to the part of himself that was in love with Scott McCall.

It worked. Isaac was in control.

He made it out to the main area just as Stiles got the call that Boyd and the other werewolf – Cora Hale, Stiles said – had gone feral and had escaped. Feeling more like an asset and less like a liability now that his new anchor was in place, Isaac went with Peter to go help find them.

As Peter drove, Isaac felt a sharp pulling in his gut. It wasn't painful, but it was intense and it made Isaac gasp. From the driver's seat, Peter asked, "Woke up on the wrong side of the ice bath this morning?"

Isaac glared at Peter, but before he could describe what was happening, the feeling passed. He shook his head. "It's nothing. It's over now. I'm fine."

"You're not _fine_ ," Peter scoffed, but he didn't say another word about it.

After a short conversation with Derek, Peter was sent away and Derek and Isaac followed Scott and Chris Argent. Isaac let his curiosity get the best of him when he asked about Cora, but Derek shut him down without a word.

Isaac had to learn how to do that. Just glare people into submission. He suspected he didn't have the eyebrows necessary to pull it off.

~*~

After Allison heard the truth, she wished she hadn't pushed the issue. She wished she didn't believe Scott. But she did. Why would Scott lie to her, after all? The lie to protect her she could understand, but Allison knew Scott. She _knew_ him. And she just could not believe that he'd lie like this to hurt her.

Gerard breaking the code was one thing. Allison barely knew him and once she'd gained some clarity, she could see that he'd always been a zealot. What Allison didn't want to believe was that her parents had been zealots as well. Well, her Dad had never deviated from the code, as far as Allison knew. But for her mother to try to kill _Scott_ just because Allison was dating him? That went beyond what Allison could call a simple overreaction. Her mother's action had been rooted in hate. 

And as rough as that fact was to confront, Allison knew she couldn't hate her mother. Her actions had been evil and unconscionable, but Allison couldn't lose sight of the woman who had been there for her through thick and thin for seventeen years. She wouldn't.

She also wouldn't do as her father wanted and stay out of things now. They were back in Beacon Hills and things hadn't returned to normal. That was an Argent's job, wasn't it? To keep an eye on the supernatural and stop problems before they affected the innocent people around them? Well, Boyd and that other werewolf were two giant dangers to the innocent people of Beacon Hills and Allison couldn't let their presence slide without doing something to help.

After all, an Argent never let her feelings get the better of her. Not when she had a Code to uphold.

~*~

Jen wasn't quite sure how, but she'd managed to fall asleep while eating dinner and somehow sleepwalk to bed, still wearing her clothes. Well, except for one of her shoes, which was missing, and Jen looked everywhere for it when she woke up in the middle of the night, but she couldn't find it.

It was ten to three in the morning when Jen took a shower and put her pajamas on, only to find that as soon as she laid in bed, thoughts of all the quizzes she needed to grade before morning plagued her. She could not fall back asleep.

So, Jen did what anyone would do. She got dressed, made herself a thermos full of coffee, and went to work. Two and a half hours before sunrise.

Okay, so maybe she'd been having a lot of these drifting off and waking up somewhere else episodes lately, but Jen didn't really want to mention them to her therapist. He'd want to change her medication or get her to take sick leave or something, and Jen didn't want to abandon her kids two weeks into the school year. She was just starting to find a rhythm with them, homicidal crows notwithstanding. Jen couldn't stand the thought of undoing all that work now and foisting her kids off on some substitute she didn't know.

And, yes, it bothered Jen a little that she'd been a part of the faculty for almost three weeks and most of the other teachers didn't know her name. Except for Bobby Finstock, who seriously creeped Jen out, none of the teachers had made a point of making Jen feel welcome. It wasn't exactly the fresh start she'd been dreaming about, but damn it, she was going to make it work.

If that meant arriving at work before the janitor and picking open one of the door locks, well then so be it. It wasn't like the damage would be noticed with what the rest of the school was going through. There wasn't much of a library to speak of - most of the books had been moved into those supply cupboards which weren't infested with mold because of plumbing damage caused by god knows what. And so most of the office supplies? Had been moved to the basement. It was an area where Adrian Harris told Jen they used to store old desks and broken lamps and that sort of thing, but now it housed all the office supplies that weren't crammed around the school receptionist's desk.

And go figure, in order to finish putting covers over her students' papers so she could hand them back without the other students seeing the grades, Jen needed more of the construction paper she'd started with. She couldn't exactly give half of the students brightly colored paper and the other half plain printer paper. Teenagers were neurotic enough without the mindtrip that would cause.

On her way down into the basement, Jen tried to tell herself it was no big deal. Adults weren't afraid of the dark. They bucked up and went down into the scary basement in search of construction paper because children were counting on them to do so.

Everything was fine - for the first two minutes. Jen found the paper she needed and was headed out of the storage space when a growl just ahead stopped her in her tracks. She had to be imagining the sound, right? It was just the boiler coming online for the morning. It had to be.

Another growl and a glowing set of yellow eyes in the darkness made Jen shriek with fear. This wasn't just the boiler. There was something out there in the darkness. A monster of some kind. Jen's hands trembled and she stood stock still as not one, but two monstrous forms prowled into the light and toward her.

This was it. Jen was about to die, just like all the other unlucky citizens of Beacon Hills. The sense of the macabre which had drawn her to this town was suddenly looking like much more of a liability than an asset.

But then another figure pushed the monsters away from Jen, practically screaming at them, and the surprise of it shocked Jen into action. She knew that there was no way she could get past them and out of the basement. There was no way she could fight. The only thing to do, the reflexive thing to do, was to hide and wait for it to pass.

Jen listened to the growls and the wet, smacking, thunking sounds of violence and barely breathed. Her lungs burned and her head went light, but she didn't dare make any more noise than she had to. She was just a mild-mannered teacher who on one occasion, _one_ , had sworn at a student. Jen knew she didn't deserve to die. But that was the thing about monsters, wasn't it? It wasn't necessarily the bad guys they went after.

The sounds seemed to go on forever as Jen hunched, shaking and hiding behind the shelving. But then, the light from the windows near the ceiling grew steadily brighter and the sounds faded. The sun had come up and chased the monsters away. Jen still didn't feel like she could move. Her muscles had been locked for so long, and her breath was still uneven, her heart in her throat.

Other sounds replaced the growls and the fighting. The door at the foot of the stairs creaked open. Footfalls fell across the floor. Soft voices murmured. And then a set of feet made their way toward Jen carefully, almost tentatively. Those feet weren't those of a monster, but those of a man, and Jen hazarded to peek around the shelf.

It was the man from the grocery store, except he was covered in wounds and blood and he looked so weary that Jen's heart went out to him. She knew that whatever had happened with the monsters, this man was involved, and that meant that she shouldn't trust him. But he gave her those soft, caring eyes and held out his bloody hand and Jen was reaching for him before she knew what she was doing.

Wordlessly, he led her out of the basement and back to her classroom. Several times, Jen started to ask him what had happened, or even what his name was, but before she could work up the courage, he tilted his head like he was hearing something she couldn't. He turned to Jen and opened his mouth before closing it again, like he had no idea what to say to her either. Finally he just patted her awkwardly on the arm and strode away.

Jen gathered her things, walked out to her car, and cried for about twenty minutes before calling in sick and driving home.

~*~

Waking up slowly, Boyd found himself on a bed next to Cora. If not for the way the bed smelled like Isaac, Boyd would have wondered if they were still in the vault and escaping had been some sort of mad dream. When a figure leaned over him, Boyd flinched. Then his eyes focused and he saw it was Isaac.

"Hey," Isaac said. Boyd noticed he was wearing a sweater and a scarf, even though it was the middle of summer. "Feelin' okay?"

Boyd reached forward and rubbed the fabric of Isaac's scarf between his fingers. Nope. It didn't feel like a dream. Pushing himself up onto his elbows, Boyd said, "Well, not all bloodlusty anymore, so that has to be good."

"Good." Isaac leaned back and sat on a chair next to the bed. He picked at his hands for a moment before asking, "So, was I there with you? In the vault?"

Nodding, Boyd asked, "You don't remember?" Boyd remembered Ennis throwing Isaac in with him and Cora, Erica still dying in Cora's arms.

"No. They- they did something to my memory. Erased it. How did I get out?"

Boyd takes a good look at Isaac as he sits up and throws his legs over the edge of the bed. As best he can tell, Isaac's telling the truth. Boyd thinks maybe Isaac's always told him the truth, unlike a lot of people in his life. Even Erica told him they'd always be together. Though, was it a lie if you meant it at the time?

Sighing, Boyd thought about how much to tell Isaac. Should Isaac know about how terrified he and Erica were when they were first taken? How days dragged into weeks and none of their escape attempts seemed to do any good? About how Cora had been thrown into the vault with them and about how it had taken Boyd and Erica nearly ten days before they started to trust her and work with her?

Should he tell Isaac about how hurt Erica had been when Isaac pulled away from them? About how his decision to stick by Derek instead of by her and Boyd was what pushed her over the edge into agreeing with Boyd's plan to skip town? About how they'd both used Cora as a sort of crutch to get over Isaac and about how Boyd had lost his two first loves within the same three months? About how Boyd loved Cora now, but it just wasn't the same as the way he'd felt about Isaac?

Boyd settled on a simple explanation. "I don't really know. They took you out for a shower and you never came back. I thought you were dead."

Behind Boyd, Cora stirred, and he turned back to look at her. Her hair was matted with blood from a wound that had already healed and Boyd found himself grateful that Cora wasn't blonde. Otherwise the blood might have reminded Boyd of the way Erica looked while she was dying, while she was bleeding out from the wounds Kali had inflicted on her.

Cora sat up and put her hand on Boyd's arm. It was a simple touch, but those simple touches that said, "I'm here, I'm with you," were what kept Boyd sane during three months without the moon. "Mornin'."

"Early afternoon, actually," Isaac said with a wry smile. Boyd sort of hated that smile, but he'd also sort of missed it so much he felt like grabbing Isaac close. "So, I guess you're Derek's sister?"

Cora gave Isaac an unimpressed frown as she scooted to the edge of the bed, so she could sit next to Boyd. "We've met before."

"He doesn't remember how he got out," Boyd said, folding Cora's hand in his. Maybe being out of the vault, being back with his pack, should have made Boyd feel safer. It didn't.

"All I remember is this girl who helped me." Isaac frowned and looked past Boyd, like he was trying to remember something. "She didn't even tell me her name."

Cora squeezed Boyd's hand, like she did when she was worried about something, but her face looked just as blank as before. Before Boyd could ask her what was wrong, he heard the footsteps from downstairs (Boyd had assumed they were Derek's) were coming up the staircase.

Derek appeared at the doorway and he just looked at the two of them for a moment, like he wasn't sure they were actually here. Like he'd assumed they were dead and finding out they weren't had totally rocked his world off its axis.

When he finally spoke, Derek told Boyd, "I buried Erica this morning. I can show you where."

The sudden mention of her made the loss fresh in Boyd's mind and brought tears to his eyes. Boyd jutted out his chin, squeezed Cora's hand, and told Derek, "I'd like that."

"Why don't you let Isaac show you the new place? I'd like to talk with my sister."

Boyd started to get up, but Cora held his hand tightly and pulled him back. "I want him here. I don't know you anymore, Derek. But I know Boyd. We've spent the last three months together. I trust him."

The implication of "I don't trust _you_ " was so heavy in the air that Boyd cringed. Maybe he and Erica had told Cora a lot about Derek, and not all of it good. She seemed particularly upset by the way he'd targeted them for The Bite.

"Fine." Derek said, his jaw muscles bulging as he clenched them. Derek gave Isaac a look, but he didn't shoo Isaac away. Turning back to Cora, Derek asked, "Where have you been the last six years?"

"With Aunt Janet," Cora replied. "Where have you been?"

"Aunt Janet's _alive_?" Boyd thought Derek looked far more surprised that Boyd had ever seen from him. "Why didn't she ever visit Peter? They always told us we were the only visitors."

"There were hunters everywhere when we left Beacon Hills. It didn't seem safe to come back," Cora explained, dropping Boyd's hand and standing up to face Derek, even though she was quite a bit shorter. "Boyd told me Laura survived the hunters?"

"She and I went to New York," Derek said, sighing and leaning back against the wall. Boyd watched Cora's posture relax as well and let out a breath he hadn't known he was holding. It had been a habit before he was turned - watching a conversation and getting invested in the outcome even though it had nothing to do with him. Boyd hadn't been able to shake the habit since becoming a werewolf, either. "We didn't … we didn't know who Mom's contacts were. We didn't know who to call. We always assumed if no one ever visited Peter, that meant everyone was really gone."

"Well, we weren't. And we could have used you guys." Cora blinked rapidly, like she was about to cry. Boyd moved closer and put his arm around her shoulders. "Do you know how _hard_ it was having to watch everyone burn, and then having to go get used to another pack? Another _alpha_? When I heard you were alive, that _you_ were the alpha, I thought maybe everything would be okay again."

"I'm sorry I'm such a disappointment." Derek said, and Boyd could tell that he meant it. The attitude was so different from the Derek Boyd knew, from the cocky son of a bitch who'd given Boyd the bite. In his surprise, Boyd looked over at Isaac, silently asking him what the hell was going on. Isaac shrugged and nodded, like he knew what Boyd was thinking. Later, Boyd would ask Isaac what exactly had happened during Boyd's absence.

Then Derek asked, "Did anyone else survive?"

Cora took a breath, but she hesitated for the briefest second before answering. Boyd thought that anyone who knew Cora wouldn't have noticed it. "Just Jan's baby. His name is Lucas Peter."

Derek chuckled sadly. "After his dads. Don't-" Derek tilted his head and listened for a moment. "Don't tell Peter about his son. He's not the same man we knew."

"Wait, isn't Peter dead?" Boyd asked, looking back and forth between Isaac and Derek. "Last I heard, Derek killed him and became the alpha."

Isaac slung his arm over Boyd's shoulders and said, "My friend, do I have some stories to tell you..." 

~*~

If Kali thought driving a pipe through Derek's torso would cause the worst pain he'd ever experienced, she was wrong. After enough damage, shock sort of set in and made everything numb. Derek wished there was such a thing as the shock response for emotional pain. If there was, his body had never been kind enough to provide it.

Having a pipe through his chest wasn't _comfortable_ by any means, and even though he was an alpha, he could still die by bleeding out. That's how Peter had been killed, after all.

Mostly, Derek was worried about Cora. She'd been held captive by the alpha pack for a long time – how long she wouldn't say, but long enough for Erica's scent to be embedded in her skin. To see her back in their clutches, to know that he hadn't done enough to protect her, that hurt worse than being impaled. 

Part of Derek actually wanted to egg her on, to goad Kali into finally putting Derek out of his misery. His survival instinct was too strong to let him take the easy way out. He tried to give up, over and over again, but his body just kept fighting to stay alive. 

He deserved death, though. He'd over reached and grown greedy with power when he'd decided to make betas. Laura never needed any betas other than him. She hadn't wanted them, because she didn't know who to trust.

The person she should have been suspicious of was with her day in and day out. Derek tried to tell Laura a million times that he'd shown Kate and Liz how to get into the house and out again undetected. He was the reason everyone was dead.

And yet, miraculously, Cora was alive. She was alive and shaking in Ennis' hands and Derek had to fight for her. There were no other options. He had to listen to Deucalion's speech and time his move right and fight the alphas with every last breath.

But when they let him go, Derek's body wouldn't cooperate. It wouldn't let him go on a suicide mission to fight back with a gaping wound in his chest. It barely let him breathe. 

Cora rushed to Derek's side when Ennis let her go, pressing one of Derek's towels to the gaping wound. "What do I do?" She asked, just as the pain flooded back in. "How do I help?"

Derek knew she couldn't help him. He had to focus and do this on his own. She could however, "Hold my hand."

"What?"

Struggling to pull air into his collapsing lung, Derek grabbed Cora's hand in his. "Just...okay?"

"Yeah," she replied, giving his palm a tight squeeze. "Yeah, okay."

Derek could see it now. Cora would get hurt because of him. Everyone got hurt because of him. He'd paid a visit to the teacher, Jennifer, and for an instant, he'd let himself be charmed by her, be drawn to her.

The last time Derek had felt a connection like this with someone, they'd burned his house down. Derek expected that Jennifer didn't have such dark motives, but if he let her near him, she'd get hurt just the same. Look at what had happened to Erica. Derek had let himself be charmed by the girl trapped inside her illness. He'd given her the bite. 

He'd as good as killed her himself. Peter could talk all he wanted about making new betas, like they weren't irreplaceable people with dreams and souls. Derek knew he couldn't do it again. He couldn't give anyone else the bite. He didn't want to. Even if it led to his downfall. Derek would fight to the last breath – he couldn't will himself to give up – but he wasn't going to bring anyone else into his life. Not now. Not ever.

Cora held Derek's hand for the whole two hours it took him to heal. When it was done, Derek petted Cora's hair and pulled her into a tight hug. "Thank you."

Sounding more than a little skeptical, and yet vulnerable, she said, "Oh, yeah, okay. Sure. You're welcome."

Derek thought that maybe there was more to her reply than he could see or hear at the moment, but he didn't want to speculate on what that might be. He'd found his sister and Derek was going to enjoy her company until he either convinced her to abandon him, or he got her killed.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isaac turns to Scott for help, Lydia turns to Stiles, Derek turns to Jennifer, Allison tries to sort through her feelings, and Scott tries to leave it all behind.

It seemed like every time Allison meant to take some time for herself, to figure out who she was as an independent person, her life seemed to have a different idea of how things should go. Receiving detention for sleeping in class was completely unfair, since she'd been trying to keep innocent people from getting killed, and Ms. Morrell _knew_ that. Of course, she couldn't exactly complain to the principal that her teacher was involved with the supernatural. He already had it in for her after something her parents had done to him the year before.

So Allison took her punishment and went with Isaac to restock the janitor's supply closet. A large portion of the room was filled with library books, so she and Isaac had to work closely together to stock the one shelf left to hold paper towels and other cleaning supplies. They got to talking and Allison wasn't quite sure why Isaac would keep her involvement in Boyd and Cora's capture a secret. To keep the peace with her father, she hadn't wanted anyone to know she'd been there, but never had she suspected Isaac wouldn't tell.

Maybe it shouldn't have, but the act of keeping her secret made Allison feel a sort of … fondness for Isaac. Like maybe her assumptions about him were wrong. Most of the interaction she'd had with him was when he and the rest of Derek's pack were convinced Lydia was the kanima and Allison had protected her friend. It wasn't like Allison had never attacked someone on faulty pretenses. Hell, as Isaac pointed out, she'd stabbed him about a dozen times, thinking Isaac was the enemy, not Gerard.

So Allison apologized. She liked the way Isaac smiled at her as he accepted her apology. It felt like something normal, when her life hadn't been normal in months. And then, of course, the closet door slammed shut and a big scraping noise just outside meant that it wasn't just the wind. Someone had closed them in on purpose.

Allison watched Isaac try the door once and not have any luck. She wanted to try as well, but logically she knew if he couldn't get it open, she wouldn't be able to either. She thought of pulling her phone out of her pocket and calling … someone. Well, that wasn't true. Her first thought was to call Scott, but he wasn't hers anymore. She couldn't just go running to him whenever she was in trouble. Maybe she could call Lydia?

Before Allison could put her plan into action, Isaac started slamming against the door more and more violently. Oh, god. He was freaking out. Allison was trapped in a closet with a werewolf who was freaking out! God, she had to get him calmed down before he hurt himself or killed her. "Isaac. Isaac! It's okay. Isaac, calm down." He wouldn't listen. It was like he was panicking, or stuck in a bad memory. Allison remembered the freezer in Isaac's old basement. Oh, this was so bad.

In retrospect, touching him had been a bad idea, but that's what Allison did instinctively to try to comfort Isaac. He turned around and pushed her away, scratching her arm. The stinging pain told Allison that it wasn't serious, but how much longer could it stay that way? Isaac was getting worse and worse and Allison knew that when a werewolf lost his grip on his humanity, that's when he lost control and started killing people. Allison was those people.

Just when Allison started to look around the room for a weapon she could use to knock Isaac out without just angering him in the process, the door flung open. Isaac fell with it, still locked in whatever memory had gripped him. Scott appeared in the doorway and Allison felt incredibly relieved.

"Are you okay?" he asked her, but his attention was clearly on Isaac.

"I'm fine," she assured him. "Isaac..."

Isaac started to attack Scott, obviously not recognizing him, but then Scott put his hand around Isaac's neck and growled his name. Isaac's eyes focused on Scott's face and that moment of recognition faded into what looked like intense relief. When Isaac's eyes cut over to Allison and caught her holding her scratched arm, that relief crumbled. Pulled into himself, Isaac cried, "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

Later, Allison would find it strange how intensely she felt the need to hug Isaac and comfort him. Scott did it instead, pulling Isaac into an embrace and meeting Allison's eyes over his shoulder. Noticing how close Scott and Isaac seemed, Allison didn't know what to say. She shrugged. Then realizing that wasn't helpful, she pointed out, "Someone trapped us."

Frowning, Scott nodded. He let go of Isaac and said, "I know exactly who it was."

Allison liked Scott's plan. She liked it a lot, actually. When he asked, "Can you hotwire a motorcycle?" Allison grinned.

"Sure can."

Isaac gave Allison an impressed look, which made her feel good about herself. Yes, both Scott and Isaac were superhuman, but she could be useful as well. Allison liked feeling useful. Useful meant powerful, not weak or stupid or any of the things she'd brought up thinking she absolutely couldn't be. Allison had been trying to make her peace with the weak, stupid decisions she'd made after her mother's death.

Maybe if Allison was helpful enough, she'd find something like redemption.

While she was working the bike's starter, Isaac leaned close like he was interested in what she was doing. When she looked up and met his eyes, he gave her another of those impressed looks and a little smile. Allison's heart leapt. Recognizing the feeling, Allison made herself go back to work, and the tumblers fell into place, starting the engine.

Allison didn't know what it would mean in the long run, having feelings for Isaac, but she liked having those feelings again. It was actually kind of nice having them for someone besides Scott, not that she would act on them, knowing that Scott and Isaac were close friends. Well, she wouldn't _really_ act on them, but Allison couldn't help but lean closer to Isaac as she showed him how to drive the bike and watch the almost-stunned expression on his face.

That made her feel powerful, too.

The looks on Ethan's and Aiden's faces, while anger rather than awe, made Allison feel powerful as well. Powerful, and amused, and like she was working her way back into being okay working with Scott. Or, to be more specific, working her way towards reconciling her feelings for Scott with her anger over his involvement in her mother's death. Now that she knew Victoria had been trying to kill Scott, and that's why Derek bit her, that reconciliation made more and more sense every day.

Allison missed a lot of things about Scott, but mostly she missed the touch of his skin and the way he smelled when he was pressed close against her. And you couldn't get those intimacies from being "just friends."

~*~

Stiles sat in his room, surrounded by books and papers and just full to the brim with a feeling that was either excitement or frustration. He couldn't tell anymore. Deaton had told him and Lydia that a Darach, a Dark Druid, was behind the sacrifices, but he hadn't said much more than that. And Stiles needed to know.

Three virgins - fairly standard sacrifice. Lots of the references Stiles had found mentioned sacrificing virgins. Innocents. Usually they were young and healthy, a good sacrifice. See Stiles, he would sacrifice someone old or weak, if a sacrifice was really necessary. But that made too much sense. And was apparently insulting to the gods or whatever. 

Unlike these baby sacrifices Stiles found. Eugh. What kind of messed up religion lets people sacrifice adorable little babies? A bad one, that's what.

Three warriors. Another standard sacrifice, but one that made even less sense to Stiles than the virgins. If you were praying for better crops or more rain or victory in battle, how was sacrificing the guys meant to protect you supposed to help with any of that? 

Six people. Six people had died in Stiles' town, and that just couldn't stand. Stiles' dad thought he had a bonafide serial killer on his hands. Well, he _did_ have a technical serial killer, but the perpetrator was a Druid with some pretty major voodoo, so.

Who knew how many other people the Darach would kill. How many groups of three. Deaton mentioned Healers. Would he go after Mothers? Fathers? Teachers? Garbage collectors? Clowns?

Now, clown sacrifices, that was something Stiles could get behind. Send all that creepy cheer back to Hell where it belonged. 

Sighing, Stiles rolled his neck to stretch out the muscles and set aside some papers before standing up and pacing the room. He just had to go over this again, step-by-step.

Darach meant "Dark Druid," and the modifier in there meant that there had to be such a thing as good Druids, too. Right? So what was the difference between a good Druid and a bad one? One was willing to murder and sacrifice innocent people? 

The only things Stiles knew about Druids came from an old video game and one of the druid's powers was to turn into a werewolf (or a werebear, which was way cooler and more powerful, but slower). Granted a video game wasn't the best source of reliable information about a subject, but if the people who'd made the game had done research and found that Druids and werewolves were connected somehow, well then, Stiles' life would make a lot more sense.

Before Stiles could open a new tab on his browser to find a more trustworthy source of information, someone knocked on his open door. Since it was Scott's room too, he wouldn't knock, so Stiles was expecting one of his parents. When he looked up, it was Lydia instead.

Stiles' heart, oddly, did not skip a beat. 

"Hey?"

"Hey," she said with a little smile. "Your Mom let me in."

Stiles winced and fought the urge to correct her. When both your mothers were still around, like in Lydia's family, it was no big deal to mix up someone's birth mother and their Mima. Sometimes you had no idea which kid came from which mom. Of course, both Stiles and Scott took after their mothers more than their father, so it was a little easier to tell the difference in their family. Still, Stiles shouldn't have expected Lydia to get the distinction right one hundred percent of the time.

But hearing anyone refer to Stiles' Mom, even if it was obvious they meant Melissa, _hurt_. It hurt because sometimes Stiles let himself think it wasn't true. He'd seen the body with his own eyes, and still he wanted to believe, so _badly_ , that it had never happened. Sometimes he forgot it had. Something always made him remember.

Stiles had gotten used to not expecting his mom to be around the house. He rarely ever started to get up to go ask her something anymore. And when he did, he'd see the new family portrait in the hallway, the one they'd taken freshman year. Or, he'd notice that Mom's old chair at the dining room table always had stuff on it. Her old hook on the rack of them near the door held Dad's uniform jackets. Her "Greatest Mom" mug was full of pens and pencils. Stiles wondered if everyone else in the family used these little reminders the same way Stiles did, but he never asked because they rarely talked about it.

Five years was a long time, but not long enough for all the traces of Annie Stilinski to fade from the house. Sometimes Stiles wondered if his parents ever thought about moving someplace smaller after his Mom died. He and Scott shared a room because they liked being together, not because there weren't two other free bedrooms. It was a house meant for a full family with three paychecks and at least three kids. It must have cost a lot to keep the house. It wouldn't have been that hard to move, to leave Mom's memory behind and move on.

Being reminded that his Mom was gone hurt, but if he pitched a fit anytime he was reminded, Stiles wouldn't have survived five years in his house. So he nodded at Lydia and asked, "So what's up?"

Lydia knelt on the floor outside Stiles' ring of papers and pulled a notebook from her bag. She turned to one page and turned the notebook around so Stiles could see a drawing of a tree.

"It's nice."

Lydia frowned. "Its niceness isn't important. This is the tree I drew in the music teacher's room this afternoon."

"The one you did without remembering?" Stiles asked, suddenly intrigued. He pushed the papers out of his lap and leaned forward, taking the notebook out of Lydia's hands. "What do you think it means?"

"You see how the branches reach outward, and look kind of like veins?" Lydia asked, tracing several of the lines on the drawing with her perfectly manicured finger. 

"Don't all trees look like that?" Stiles asked, tilting his head, like that slight change in perception would help him see something that wasn't there. "Rivers, too."

Lydia shrugged one shoulder. "Somewhat. These branches most closely resemble those of the genus _Quercus_."

Stiles gave Lydia a blank look and shook his head. Was he supposed to know what that meant?

"Oak," Lydia clarified, taking the notebook from Stiles' hands and closing it. "It's an oak tree. And do you know what kind of tree druids are most associated with?"

Sighing, Stiles remembered the cursory definition of Druid that he'd read online. "Oak trees. They're like this big symbol of knowledge and wisdom, right?"

Nodding, Lydia said, "Right. So, why did my subconscious bring me to the music teacher's room and draw an oak tree?"

"Obviously because the Darach took the music teacher, probably killed him."

"But why _me_?" Lydia's jaw jutted out and she looked up like she was trying not to cry. Stiles' chest hurt in sympathy for her. "Why am I drawing an oak tree in a dead man's classroom?"

"I don't know," Stiles said softly, wondering if maybe he should comfort Lydia somehow. Maybe by touching her elbow? Stiles reached forward and hesitated for half a second before cupping Lydia's elbow in his hand. "Maybe … maybe there's a part of you that wants to help find them?"

Shaking her head, Lydia pushed some of Stiles' papers around. "It shouldn't be possible. There haven't been any scientific studies proving that the supernatural exists, and yet it clearly _does_. I mean, my last boyfriend was a freaking werewolf! Derek's uncle came back from the dead. And I'm getting these … these death omens from _the other side_ , like that's actually a thing!"

"Maybe it is," Stiles suggested, wondering just how needy he would have to look when he asked Deaton about it in order to pry an actual answer out of the man. "You're like, psychic or something."

"Psychic, yeah right." Lydia scoffed, pulling her arm out of his hand and starting to arrange Stiles' papers into piles, like he didn't already have a perfectly workable system, thank you very much. Stiles cringed at the way Lydia was messing up his system, but he didn't want to say something, because organizing looked like it was actually calming her down. "Psychic for one thing - people who are dead."

"But it's not _just_ dead people," Stiles realized. "It's people who have been murdered."

Lydia stopped organizing and turned to look Stiles in the eye for the first time in several long minutes. "You're right. Even when I was having those hallucinations about Peter Hale, he'd been murdered, right?"

"Yeah!" Excitedly, Stiles stood up. This was too much of a breakthrough to keep still for. Something important was happening here, but Stiles still couldn't quite pin it down. While he thought, he said, "We killed Peter. Well, you know, it was mostly Derek. Who did the murdering." He pointed down at Lydia where she was rising to her feet. "You're some sort of murder psychic!"

"I don't think that's a thing." Lydia lifted her bag up onto her shoulder and sighed. "Well, there's something else for you to..." She frowned in distaste and pointed at the circle of papers on Stiles' floor. "Research. I suppose. You do know that it's possible to read things without printing them out first, don't you?"

"Tangible is part of my process," Stiles said defensively. It was only sort of true. Mostly he liked being able to remember where a piece of information was based on what the whole page had looked like. That was a lot harder to do with words on a computer screen. Also, Dad gave him this hilariously pinched face whenever Stiles mentioned they were out of printer ink.

Lydia bid him goodbye and Stiles knew they were onto something big. Now, whether he could figure it out before anyone else died, while also going to school and doing his homework and being on the freaking cross country team because of Coach's ridiculous policies? That was a different story.

~*~

Between the dead boy at school, and being trapped in the supply closet and hurting Allison, and the missing music teacher, and the alpha twins being assholes at school, Isaac kind of figured his day couldn't get any worse. And then Boyd caught Isaac on his way out of the building.

"Cora just texted me," he said, his face grim. Of course, since getting back, Boyd's face was always grim. Isaac couldn't fault him for that. He'd loved Erica much more than Isaac ever had and he'd had to watch her die. Come to think of it, Boyd had never been much of a smiling sort of guy, even in private.

Another thought occurred to Isaac and he blurted it out before he could stop himself, "Cora has a phone?"

Boyd furrowed his brow at Isaac and shook his head. Yeah, that was probably a dumb question. "She _texted_ me to tell me the alphas paid her and Derek a visit."

"What did they want?" Isaac asked, following as Boyd led the way out into the parking lot.

Boyd hooked his thumbs around his backpack straps and pushed them out. "To impale Derek on a pipe apparently? Cora says to give him some space for a while."

"What counts as space? 'Cause I kinda live there now..." Isaac put a hand to the back of his neck, trying to think about where he could go to give Derek that space. He didn't want to ask Boyd, because Isaac knew Boyd's parents were already freaked out about just getting him back. Isaac had to sit in the police waiting room with them for almost an hour while the cops asked Boyd where he'd been.

Where else?

Boyd slipped away while Isaac was thinking. Sighing, Isaac made his way to his bike and unchained it. He guessed he could go to the public library and do his homework there. He still had some of the spending money Derek had given him for the week. It was plenty to get dinner from the sandwich shop downtown and still have lunch money for the rest of the week.

Isaac followed the plan. He gave Derek some space.

Eventually the library closed and Isaac didn't exactly want to wander the streets all night, so he went home. All day had to be enough space, didn't it?

The rain started just as Isaac was chaining up his bike outside the loft's building. Isaac thought maybe if he was quiet enough coming in, Derek and Cora could just ignore him and he could go to sleep in peace. Instead, Derek seemed to be waiting for him.

Whatever Isaac had expected, it hadn't been what actually happened. When Derek threw the glass at him, Isaac shuddered and reflexively asked what he'd done wrong. It was always his fault. It had to be.

When it became clear that Derek wasn't going to let Isaac stay, Isaac surprised himself. Instead of staying and begging a hopeless case like he had so many times with his father, Isaac got angry instead. He stomped out of the loft and all the way down the stairs and out of the building.

Fine. If Derek didn't want Isaac there, Isaac wouldn't stay. He'd be sorry when the alphas came and he only had Cora and Peter to help him through it. Peter was seriously no good, Isaac could feel it. And then there was Cora. Isaac had barely even been introduced to Derek's long lost sister, who was _obviously_ more important to Derek, even though she hadn't been around the past six months proving herself, never mind the last six _years_. Isaac would like to see how those two could compare to Isaac, really.

And where had Derek been when the alpha twins attacked Isaac at school? At home with _Cora_ , that's where. The only person willing to be around, to be on Isaac's side, was Scott.

Despite the pouring rain, Isaac got onto his bike and pedaled toward Scott's house. It was kind of far away, but since becoming a werewolf, Isaac barely ever found the limit where he got too tired or too cold. Too hungry, on the other hand, was a sensation he was still familiar with. And the way his cold, wet shirt stuck to his skin distracted Isaac more than he wished it would when there could be an alpha werewolf around any corner these days.

When Isaac got to the Stilinski house and knocked on the door, he prayed that Scott would be the one to answer the door. Instead it was Melissa. "Oh, my god, Isaac! Get out of the rain!"

"Hey, Mrs. S," Isaac said, watching Melissa's mouth gape open in surprise.

"Oh, my god, sweetie!" Melissa said, pulling Isaac into the house with one strong hand on his shoulder. "What happened to you?"

"I rode here," Isaac explained. "Can I talk to Scott?"

"Yeah, of course!"

From down the hallway, which looked into the dining room, Mr. Stilinski called, "Who is it?"

"Scott's friend, Isaac," Melissa called back. Addressing Isaac, she asked, "Can I get you a towel? Maybe some dry clothes?"

Isaac had never felt this taken care of in his life. His mother had never cared about him, and given the way Isaac's dad treated him, Isaac was pretty sure she hadn't cared about Isaac either. "I don't want to trouble you..."

"It's no trouble. You go up to Scott's room, I'll gather some things and meet you there."

"Huh," Isaac said to himself as he climbed the stairs. His dad hadn't wanted him, Derek didn't want him, hell, even the police didn't want Isaac anymore. And yet Melissa Stilinski was kind enough to offer Isaac dry clothes, and he had a feeling she and her husband wouldn't mind Isaac crashing here for a few nights.

Maybe even longer.

~*~

It seemed as though there should have been pain or some sort of pins-and-needles feeling, but the majority of Derek's body felt numb. Experience had taught him that the feeling meant his spinal cord had been severed and he only had a few minutes of peaceful, numb bliss before the cells regenerated and everything dissolved into pain.

He couldn't open his eyes, but Derek could hear what was going on around him. He heard the alphas running off his pack, who scattered without their leader. Derek heard them climbing down the building toward him, and the heartbeat just to his right. Ennis.

Derek also heard the way his heart wasn't beating. At least he didn't have to feel the agonizing burn of it this time. Oh, and he wasn't breathing either. Yeah, having to feel that choking, drowning feeling would have been much worse. And yet Derek knew from experience that left alone, he would heal from this. A few days and he'd be back in fighting shape, like he hadn't died.

Like he hadn't already died countless times and yet never quite crossed over to the other side.

"Is he alive?" Kali's voice asked as footsteps hurried over, rubble skittering across the ground around them. "Ennis?"

"He's breathing," one of the twins said. Derek could have told them that, and he was five feet further away. "But he's hurt really bad. I don't- Is he going to make it?"

"Pick him up." Deucalion's voice this time, from higher above them, but steady and unconcerned. "And the spare?"

As Derek heard two of the alphas head in his direction, he also felt his spine flaring back into working order. Shit. Derek's heart was about to start beating. His lungs would gasp for breath as soon as they were able. If the alphas knew he was still alive, they'd finish the job, no question. On the one hand, Derek would be free of this. He'd never again have to know how it felt to brush hands with death. And yet before he made the conscious decision, he willed his body to stop healing.

And it was agony.

Derek's whole body felt like it was being crushed and had been set on fire at the same time. It felt like all of his cells were ready to burst with the indecision of being not dead, but so close to not being alive. If he could have, Derek would have cried out. He would have clenched his teeth together and screamed out. He would have begged.

"He's dead," Kali said, her voice thick with satisfaction. "But I could make sure."

Distantly, the sound of sirens sounded through the empty building. They were still a few blocks away, but Deucalion still said, "Leave him. He's not important. If he does manage to survive, we can always take care of him later."

Derek got the distinct impression that "take care of" was code for something far worse than a quick, clean death. After all the slow, unclean almost-deaths Derek had been through in his life, a quick, clean death was the only thing he wanted.

Even though it hurt more than anything had ever hurt in his life, Derek managed to hold off the healing process until the alpha pack was out of earshot. He let down the mental dam he'd erected and the healing energy he'd denied came back in a rush. The nerves in his spinal cord fused and his heart started beating and he gasped a ragged, wet breath that tasted like blood and dust. Oxygen flooded back into his body, his brain, and it sparked as it went through him.

Not everything healed, not at once. But Derek was alive.

Derek was alive, and he was breathing, and he could crawl away into the shadows so the cops sent to check out the disturbance wouldn't find him.

When they left, he could secret himself into a safe space several blocks away, crawling there on his stomach and elbows, and Derek could finally pass out.

When he woke up, it was mid afternoon and he realized that not only did everyone think he was dead, but the jagged gash across his chest wasn't healing the way it should have been. Healing his spine and most of his muscles and bones must have hit a limit to his healing that Derek hadn't known he had. Not where wolfsbane wasn't involved.

He- he had to find help. He had to let his pack know he was still alive. He couldn't let them, couldn't let _Cora_ think he was still dead. She'd spent so long thinking he was dead, the same amount of time he'd spent grieving her, Derek couldn't do that to her again.

The only place Derek could think of where he was sure to find help without running into the alpha pack on the way there was the high school. Boyd and Isaac and Scott would all be there. Derek would have rather gone straight to the loft, straight back to Cora, but Deucalion had to be watching, right? He wouldn't put her in danger like that. Not when he didn't have to.

Still bleeding, Derek staggered through the woods and toward Beacon Hills High. The blood loss made the ground weave under his feet and tripped him more than once. Derek even knocked his head against a tree when he lost his balance. But eventually he made it.

But none of the cars he recognized were in the parking lot. Isaac's little coupe, Scott's bike, even Stiles' stupid Jeep. None of them were there, even though school hadn't let out yet. Something was wrong.

Then Derek caught a familiar scent. Except it wasn't as familiar as his brain seemed to think it was. It belonged to that teacher, Jennifer Blake. And it was all over the car at the edge of the parking lot.

Derek knew he couldn't be seen battered and covered in blood as he was, so he collapsed just inside the treeline and waited for Jennifer to leave work. He didn't want to ask her for help, but he didn't know who else he could trust. She was just a school teacher who had seen too much. There was no way she could have an agenda when it came to Derek and right then, that was exactly what he needed.

Derek passed out long enough after falling against her car that Jennifer had him in the back seat by the time he woke up. "Where?" he asked, unable to make any more words.

Looking back over her shoulder, Jennifer told him, "We're about halfway to the hospi-"

"No!" Derek cried, gasping in pain as the force of breath needed for the sound grated on his ribs. "No .... hospital!"

"But!" Jennifer huffed in frustration and pulled her car over to the side of the road. She turned around in her seat to look at Derek and raised her eyebrows at him. "Where am I supposed to take you if I can't take you to the hospital? What even are you?"

"Not _human_." That was for sure. "So," Derek took a jagged breath and released it, "no hospital."

Jennifer bit one of her thumbnails before saying around it, "Well, what about your place? You do live in a place, right?A house or an apartment, not a cave or something?"

"Apartment." Derek nodded. He almost told her to take him there, but then he remembered the reason he hadn't gone there in the first place. The alpha pack knew where he lived and if they saw him alive, but weak, they wouldn't hesitate to kill him – and Jennifer too, most likely. "Can't go there. What ... about yours?"

"My place?" Jennifer grasped the arm rest between the two front seats with both hands. "You want to go to my place? But... We've only just met!"

"I could keep bleeding all over your _car_..."

Frowning, Jennifer turned back toward the steering wheel. "Fine! But if this turns out to be some sort of trap, so help me god, I will ..." She trailed off like she couldn't think of a threat worthy enough. 

Derek felt one corner of his lips twitch upward. God help him, he thought it was cute. He thought about finishing her sentence with something about entrails, but he passed out again before he could be certain he'd said it out loud.

When he woke up, it was upright, with Jennifer helping him into the elevator of an unfamiliar building. Derek leaned against the elevator wall as they went up one floor, so Jennifer could save her strength.

The world wobbled again as she helped Derek out of the elevator and down the hall. Jennifer just barely managed to get the door open and Derek through it before he collapsed onto the floor.

The wounds caused by the alphas were taking much longer to heal than those caused by the fall, and only the critical wounds caused by the fall had healed at all. Derek felt like one, giant open wound, exposed to the stinging air and begging to be covered up and left in darkness to heal.

"God damn, you're heavy." Jennifer was dragging Derek up onto a bed that had been covered with towels. "What, are you half anvil?"

Derek tried to laugh, but it came out more like a wet cough. He managed to get his feet on the floor and get himself the rest of the way onto the bed. Jennifer pulled a pair of scissors from the armoire across the room and for a second, Derek thought she might try to stab him with them. Instead, Jennifer said, "This is how they always get rid of the ruined clothes on TV." She nodded to his shirt.

Derek had actually kind of liked this shirt. It was soft. But now it was also ripped and bloodstained. He looked up at the ceiling and grumbled. "Fine."

The way Jennifer touched Derek's chest was so gentle, so careful and delicately awkward, that it reminded Derek of _nothing_. Of no one. All of the people he'd dated, who he'd let touch him like this, had been overly confident, even the one that had less experience than Derek at the time. None of them had been hesitant. Or gentle. 

Derek shuddered.

"Sorry," Jennifer said softly, finishing the job of cutting Derek's shirt and pulling it away from his wounds. She retrieved a wet cloth from the bathroom and started cleaning out the deepest wound. It stung, but at this point, any pain short of traumatic bodily harm barely registered with Derek anymore. "How are you still _alive_?"

Derek sat up and shrugged. He'd be damned if he knew why he was still alive. He should have been dead at least five times over. The first time he cheated death was when he let Laura talk him into going to the lacrosse game the night Kate and Liz attacked his family. And this was the latest time, gutted by a pack of alphas and pulled down so hard he'd broken his neck. 

Derek couldn't even die properly. His pack needed a new alpha. A better alpha. One who wasn't the least bit tempted by Deucalion's offer. One who could think around the choice between family and pack without standing there like an idiot, trying to decide.

Instead they had Derek, who couldn't die and imposed himself on innocent high school teachers. "I shouldn't be here. I have to go. They need to know I'm alive."

Like he wasn't easily fifty times stronger than her, Jennifer pushed Derek down as he tried to stand. "Nuh-uh. You came to me, or you found me first or whatever. I'm not sending you on your way until I've bandaged you all up. Besides, maybe it's a good idea to lay low for awhile. Let people think you're dead. I mean, there's a long literary history of characters using a fake death to their advantage."

Derek thought about what Jennifer was suggesting. He could stay here, in this comfortable apartment, in this comfortable bed, and no one would be able to find him. The alpha pack wouldn't be after blood anymore. What pack Derek had left didn't look to him as their leader. If anything, they looked to Scott.

But Scott wasn't even seventeen years old yet. He didn't deserve to have all this shit piled on top of him. He needed Derek's help. But helping all the time was just so hard and so painful and so thankless.

Again, Derek felt like he was in that moment, when Deucalion wanted him to chose between Boyd and Cora. Neither option felt like an option in the first place.

Breaths coming ragged, Derek shook his head. "I can't. I can't. I-"

Jennifer pressed her lips to Derek's and the motion dislodged a tear from his eye. It rolled down and flowed into the gap between their lips. Derek pulled back, tasting salt.

Derek wanted to pull back, to pull away, but it had been so long since he'd let anyone this close, since he'd let himself trust anyone. He knew nothing about Jennifer. Or next to nothing, anyway. And yet, Derek trusted her. She made him feel calm.

Derek needed calm in his life.

The realization that he needed Jennifer let Derek admit to himself that he _wanted_ her too. So before Jennifer could pull back very far, Derek closed the distance between them again, pressing his lips to hers tightly. He breathed in, filling his whole head with her scent. His head went light and Derek began to feel dizzy. Whether he was dizzy with want or dizzy with blood loss was difficult to pin down. 

And then Jennifer put her hand on his shoulder, right on top of the biggest wound. Derek hissed in pain he barely felt.

"Oh, my god!" Jennifer breathed, pulling her hand back like it had been burned. "Oh, I'm so sorry! Are you okay?"

Gingerly laying back down now that the moment had broken and he was definitely dizzy due to blood loss, Derek nodded. "I'll be fine. I just..." Exhaustion weighed on Derek, making the pillow he pulled under his head feel amazing. "I just need to rest." Derek grabbed her hand. "Thank you, Jennifer."

"Jen," she said with a smile, crouching down next to the bed and resting her chin on the mattress. "My friends call me Jen." She chuckled awkwardly and twirled her free hand around. "I mean, I sure hope all of this means we're friends, at least!"

Derek passed out before he could answer her.

~*~

An hour after Allison (with Lydia's help) managed to talk her way onto the bus with the cross country team, Lydia texted her. It was odd, because Lydia was sitting right next to her. Allison gave Lydia a questioning look, but Lydia just huffed, raised her eyebrows, and pointed to Allison's phone.

_Did you see the thing between Isaac and Scott?_

Allison frowned and shook her head as she met Lydia's eyes. She understood, though, that Lydia wanted to talk via text, so that the werewolves on the bus couldn't overhear their conversation. _What thing?_

Lydia tapped furiously at her phone and Allison's phone buzzed with the new text. _Isaac backed off only when Scott told him to. That was some sort of freaky werewolf dominance thing, wasn't it?_

"What?" Allison accidentally said out loud, looking over at Lydia. Several students turned to look at them and Allison blushed. Lydia rolled her eyes and tapped Allison's phone, like she needed the reminder. Rolling her eyes right back at Lydia, Allison texted back. _That doesn't make any sense. Scott's not an alpha._

Lydia shrugged. _Maybe they're sleeping together. Stiles told me Isaac's living at their house now._

Wondering why no one had told her this vital piece of information, Allison let Lydia's implication sink in. Was that why Isaac had been as good as flirting with her? Because he and Scott had a relationship and it was obvious to anyone, but especially someone sleeping with him that Scott still had feelings for Allison? Was Isaac trying to what? Stabilize his relationship with Scott by pulling Allison back in and giving her a big reason to reconcile things between them? 

Allison couldn't say she didn't still have feelings for Scott. She couldn't say that she didn't miss him. But after everything that had happened with Allison's family, how was she supposed to look at Scott and not see the sheet covering her mother's body? How was she supposed to forget shooting Boyd full of so many arrows that Erica begged her to stop?

_Maybe_ , Allison texted back to Lydia. _It's none of my business._

Lydia did her little, "huhm," noise. _Come on. It's a little but your business._

Deciding she needed to say this to someone before it ate away at her, Allison told Lydia, _Isaac and I had a moment._

_A hunter/werewolf tense moment or a sexy moment?_ Lydia winked at her, which made Allison laugh.

_Both._

Lydia grinned and nudged Allison with her shoulder. _You should go for it and wrangle those boys. Life is short, after all._

That was not the advice Allison was looking for, but thinking about Lydia's firey affair with one of the Alpha werewolves themselves (Allison really had to remember which one was which), she wasn't exactly surprised by the advice she got. _I'm not ready._

_While you're not ready, Scott and Isaac are going to be looking for a third. Who's not you._ Lydia flipped her hair onto her shoulder triumphantly. 

_What if they're not sleeping together? What if they're just friends and I make a fool out of myself?_

Lydia laughed and said out loud, "Oh, sweetie. Just look at them. If they aren't already, it's only a matter of time and gentle suggestion."

Stiles crashed down into the seat in front of them, practically sitting on the kid already there. He turned around and hanged his head over the seat back between him and them. "What suggestion?"

Lydia typed out something on her phone and showed it to Stiles. 

"I know, right? And I have to live with both of them. Isaac's in the guest room, but I swear, one of these days I'm going to wake up to an image that I won't ever be able to un-see. I'll be traumatized. Scarred for life."

"Oh, please. I saw my parents doing it with this fourth person once. And I'm fine," Lydia stashed her phone away and gave Stiles a bright smile.

Stiles met Allison's eyes as his jaw dropped, and all Allison could do was shrug. She'd never walked in on her parents having sex, much less freaky sex with an extra person. Changing the topic, Allison asked, "Stiles, was there a reason you came to see us?"

"Oh, I just heard Coach talking on the phone. Meet's postponed until tomorrow. Yay, no running today!"

The boy sitting between Stiles and the window perked up. He asked, "Are we gonna have to drive all the way home and all the way back?"

Stiles gave him a surprised look, like he didn't expect anyone to join in the conversation, even though he'd sat next to the guy. "How should I know? Do I look like a travel agent?"

The boy stared at Stiles for a moment, during which Stiles gave him a harsh look, and then finally turned back to the window, curling in on himself. Allison felt bad for him and sort of wished she’d ever cared enough to learn his name. Stiles smirked at Allison and Lydia and clapped the back of his seat with both hands. “Anyway, I thought I’d spread the good news and also tell you,” he pointed at Allison, “that whatever you did worked. Scott’s almost as good as new. Still sort of morose, but...”

“There’s only so much a needle and thread can do,” Allison replied. She didn’t like hearing that Scott was still upset, but it was only to be expected. Now, Allison could have been rid of Derek twice over without blinking an eye. It amazed Allison that anyone could go through what Derek had put Scott through and still care so much about Derek’s passing.

Stiles grimaced. “Don’t talk to me about needles. Seriously. I’m begging you.” He looked around Allison to where Scott was sitting and Allison turned to look at him as well. Scott seemed to be sleeping against the window of the bus, but his color looked a lot better than it had before and Allison felt a rush of pride. She had done that with her own two hands. She’d saved Scott’s life. “Anyway, I’m gonna go...”

After Stiles was gone, Lydia sighed and said, “He is so weird.”

Allison laughed. Then she got an idea and turned her phone back on. _You know, you two would make a cute primer couple._

When Lydia checked her text, she burst out laughing. “Allison! Don’t say things like that. You’re going to make me choke!”

“You’ve _never_ thought about it?” Allison asked, a playful grin on her lips.

Rolling her eyes, Lydia nudged Allison’s arm with one of her hands. “Sweetie, can you ever see _him_ being able to keep up with _me_? Not to mention the fact that he’s kind of creepy. I’d much rather you and I fall in together.” Lydia raised one brow suggestively, which made Allison laugh.

It wasn’t that Lydia was a complete impossibility, relationship-wise, but Allison had to admit that she just wasn’t attracted to Lydia _enough_ to warrant changing their relationship. She liked Lydia so much as a friend. Lydia was her _best_ friend. And Allison would rather skip all the high school, dating-my-best-friend bullshit. Things were confusing enough with Scott that Allison knew she wouldn’t handle it well.

“Talk to me again when we’re old and still single,” Allison told Lydia, looping her arm around Lydia’s elbow. “We’ll be cougars on the prowl for a younger guy.”

Smirking, Lydia nodded. “I like this plan. I’d go as far as to say if it doesn’t happen, I’ll be severely disappointed.”

Allison laid her head on Lydia’s shoulder (which was a little uncomfortable because Lydia was so much shorter) and settled in for the rest of the bus ride, wherever it might end up going.

~*~

Several hours later, the bus pulled up to the Glen Capris Motel and immediately Lydia felt all the hairs on her body stand on end. She shivered, even though it was still fairly warm despite being after sunset. Dread heavy in her bones, her breath coming shallow, Lydia told Allison, “I don’t like it here.” “It’s just for a night,” Allison reassured her, but Lydia knew it was an empty sentiment.

“A lot can happen in a night.”

Lydia heard the first whisper of something not-right as she climbed the rickety stairs up to the room she and Allison had booked for themselves, since the cross country money certainly wasn’t going to pay for non-team members. It had been a miracle they’d gotten a ride in the first place. Lydia’s foot hit the fourth riser and she heard a quiet sob. “Please. Please, don’t jump.”

Gasping a quick breath, Lydia looked around for the source of the voice. The only person close enough to have whispered and still been heard was Allison, who was looking back at Lydia with intense concern on her face. “Are you okay?”

"No," Lydia admitted, rubbing her arm with the opposite hand. "I'm really not okay. Something is very wrong here."

Allison studied Lydia's face before asking, "You don't mean termites, do you?"

Lydia shook her head.

A few minutes later, the whispers started. Lydia couldn't be sure where they were coming from, but they made her skin crawl. She shrieked when Allison said, "I'm gonna- What? What's wrong?"

Lydia wasn't sure how to describe what was happening. She needed more data points first. That was a given. Shaking her head, Lydia said, "No. It's nothing. Yet."

"Well, that was vague and creepy." Allison gave Lydia a searching look, like she was trying to make Lydia talk with those big eyes alone. It almost worked, but Lydia had grown up in a house with her mother. She'd seen every form of emotional manipulation there was, and thus she was immune to it. Just like she was immune to werewolf bites, apparently. Eventually Allison gave up. "I'm going to take a shower."

Before Lydia could stop herself, she asked, "Is now really the time?"

Confusion furrowing her brows Allison gave Lydia another long look. "We've been on the road all day. I still have Scott's blood crusting on my side here." She pointed to the side of her shirt, which had an obviously darker patch. "Can you give me a good reason why I shouldn't?"

Ever since the hospital, Lydia had been terrified of the shower. She only vaguely remembered the episode that began her fugue state trek into the wilderness, but she remembered dark water and screaming. Putting on her calm-and-in-charge face, Lydia stalked into the bathroom to make sure it was safe. She looked at everything, behind the curtain, in the cupboards, in the vent, and eventually there was only one thing she could find that was wrong. "These towels smell awful. I think they came from a smoking room."

Allison took one of the towels and pressed it to her nose, taking a deep breath. "They smell..." She trailed off, piquing Lydia's curiosity and dread.

"Yeah?"

"Like bleach. They smell fine, Lydia. You're crazy!"

Allison must have realized how Lydia would take her words, because she clapped a hand to her mouth. Lydia tried not to let the words sting, because she'd spent the better part of the year thinking just that - that she was going crazy and was never going to be the person she wanted to be.

"I didn't mean that," Allison insisted. "Lydia, I'm sorry. I didn't mean that at all!"

Sniffing like she didn't have a care in the world, Lydia took the towels and said, "I'm going to the front desk to get new towels. See you in a minute."

As she left the room, Lydia had to admit that as much as she didn't want to be alone in this horror-movie-exposition, she didn't really want to be in the room with Allison, either. The whispers got louder around each of the rooms Lydia approached and faded away again as she passed. Which wasn't creepy at all.

Then again, Lydia's whole life lately had been a study in the creepy and unexplained. At least now she knew that werewolves existed and she wasn't actually going crazy.

Everything creepy about the Glen Capris came to a head when Scott poured gasoline on himself and lit a flare. Lydia watched helplessly as Allison tried to talk Scott down and then Stiles succeeded. Before Lydia could let her guard down and believe that everything was over and everyone had been saved, she felt something. She couldn't explain it, but it felt like an intense pressure, a ringing in her ears that she couldn't shake, and dread of the highest order. Her eyes were drawn to the flare and she watched in horror as it began to roll toward the puddle of gasoline.

Lydia always had been the one standing stock-still and over thinking things when they went south, but for once in her life, Lydia was able to act. She cried out, "No!" and rushed at Scott and Stiles, knocking them onto the dry ground behind Scott. 

Lydia felt sparks where her skin touched each of the boys and when she saw the figure in the flames, Lydia was inclined to think the feeling was actual, honest-to-god magic.

Stiles met Lydia's eyes when she pulled her hand away from his neck, rubbing the skin like he'd felt it too. "What the hell was that?"

"Me saving your life," Lydia said, keeping her face as straight as she could. "What did it look like?"

Stiles shook his head, but he raised his eyebrows at her in his, "We're so talking about this later," expression. Then he focused on getting Scott off the pavement and cleaned up while Allison came over to give Lydia a hand up.

"Are you okay?"

" _Physically_." Lydia nodded, then shrugged. "Otherwise, not so much." She looked up at the neon sign and shuddered. "I can't go back in there."

Allison put her hand on Lydia's wrist. "Yeah. Yeah, no we'll...we'll sleep on the bus tonight. Alright? It's only one night."

"Yeah," said Lydia with a sardonic chuckle. "It's only one night. _What could happen?_ "

~*~

**Warning** : Suicidal character in this section

Scott hadn't slept between getting home in the middle of the night and when Mom rapped on the door to his room and called, "C'mon, boys! Cross-country meet today. Bus leaves in one hour!"

The clock over on Stiles' dresser said it was six o'clock in the morning, which meant Scott had been laying in his bed, going over the details of the fight again and again in his head for the past four hours straight. Without sleeping. 

Stiles rolled off of his bed and onto the floor before picking himself up, which was par for the course, so Scott didn't ask if he was okay or anything. Instead, he tried to get up too, but pain flared sharply from the slashes on his ribs and made him hiss.

Rubbing the sleep out of his eye, Stiles asked, "Dude, you okay?"

"Yeah," Scott insisted, gritting his teeth as he pushed his way out of bed and forced himself to ignore the pain. He figured that even though the slash marks had been made by an alpha, they still should have been healed by now. Of at least on their way to healing, rather than feeling like his guts were going to spill onto his feet. "I'm good."

Stiles raised an eyebrow, but didn't push the issue. Scott took his clothes into the bathroom to get dressed. When he saw the extent of the damage in the mirror, he stifled a groan. That did not look good at all. The slashes were oozing blood and a lot of that blood was black. Scott bandaged it up as best he could without raiding the big first aid kit in the bathroom downstairs, and got dressed. 

He'd get a little sleep on the bus and it'd heal. It was fine.

Derek was dead and most of an alpha pack was still out for Scott's blood, but everything else was fine. Oh, no wait, that's right. One of the alphas involved in killing Derek and chasing Scott and everyone else away so they couldn't take Derek's body was sitting on the bus with them. Well, with Danny specifically.

And come on. The guy was an Alpha werewolf. What could Danny see in him?

At least Stiles was upset about it too. Scott's brother was always so on top of these things. He made all these connections that Scott rarely saw first. If Scott wasn't around, if he'd fallen with Derek, at least everyone would have Stiles to get them through it.

When Mima died, Mom and Dad were pretty nonfunctional for awhile there. Scott had been sad, and even a little angry. He didn't understand why this needed to happen to his family. He didn't know what to do. Stiles didn't seem to be any of those things. He made sure everyone ate. He told Scott when they were going back to school and who was going to drive them. Even though he was only two days older than Scott and many years younger than Mom and Dad, Stiles took care of everyone.

Scott thought it was because Stiles was better than him (and Scott even thought uncharitably once that Stiles must not have loved Mima as much as Scott loved her, even though she was his birth mom). But a few weeks later, Scott couldn't fall asleep because he'd had an asthma attack that day and the meds made him wired if he had to take them in the afternoon. That night, Scott heard Stiles gasping, almost like he was having an attack, but he kept breathing (and crying) and eventually he went silent. Scott never let on that he'd heard and Stiles kept making sure their parents picked up dinner.

Now that Stiles was five years older, Scott was sure he could handle things if Scott wasn't around. He probably wouldn't even cry. He'd just do what needed to be done.

With that in mind, after Scott's brother and his friends dragged him off the bus, Scott gave up. No one needed Scott. Derek certainly would have been better without him. Derek would have been alive.

It was the way Allison said his name that woke Scott, the care in her fingers as she sewed his wounds closed, like he was still human, like he was worth saving. If Allison thought it, it had to be true, right?

Like she'd never believed something that turned out to be wrong.

And Isaac. God, Isaac. He'd taken on an alpha werewolf _by himself_ because they'd hurt Scott. That's how much he cared about Scott. Granted, it was in the middle of the day, in the middle of the rest of the cross country team, so Ethan wouldn't have fought back, but Scott still didn't like it. He didn't like how when he called Isaac's name, trying to keep him from getting in trouble, his voice was the only one Isaac heard. And god, the way Isaac looked at Scott, like he meant _everything in the world_ to Isaac. Like Isaac would do anything and everything he said. It was too much.

Why couldn't Isaac just see Scott the way he was? Why couldn't Isaac see that Scott was a loser. Before becoming a werewolf, Scott hadn't been good at _anything_ , and it wasn't like being a werewolf had changed much. Scott still couldn't save everyone. He couldn't save Derek. 

Isaac shouldn't like Scott, but Scott knew that he did. He just didn't know what to do with that information, especially now that Isaac was living at their house. When things between Scott and Allison had gotten weird, it had been hard, but at least keeping some space had been easy. With Isaac, Scott couldn't do that. And he didn't even want to. He wanted to be Isaac's friend just as much as he wanted to be more than friends with Isaac. Maybe even more.

Scott had been having these thoughts before they reached the Glen Capris, and without Stiles there to distract him, the thoughts started to take over. Scott was worthless. Scott was nothing. Derek had been right about everything. If only Scott hadn't fought with him so much, maybe he'd still be alive. Maybe Erica and Matt and Heather would all be alive. Maybe Bullet's owner, Kyle, would still be alive. Maybe Stiles and Mom wouldn't be keeping this huge secret from Dad and maybe they could actually leave all of this behind.

Scott was a failure, plain and simple. Better to save everyone the trouble and get rid of himself now. Except, Scott knew how hard it was to kill a werewolf. It had taken a fight with an alpha _and_ a fifty-foot fall to kill Derek. The only thing that had really slowed Peter down when he was the alpha were those firebombs that Lydia made.

That was it. Fire.

Scott knew that Stiles was loyal to a fault. He'd been through all of this werewolf shit with Scott and never once complained. He'd try to save Scott's life because that was what Stiles did. He saved lives, like when he held Derek up in that swimming pool for hours. Scott had superhuman strength and reflexes and couldn't even keep Derek from falling over a ledge when he was two feet away. Stiles would try to stop him, so Scott would have to make it impossible for Stiles to succeed.

All Scott had to do was drop the flare, but looking into his brother's eyes, hearing Stiles' voice and knowing that if he did drop it, Scott's brother, his freaking honeymoon twin, his _best friend_ was not only going to have to watch him burn, but was going to jump into the flames after him got Scott to hesitate. He hesitated and then Stiles was there with him, in the pool of gasoline, hands on Scott's hands and tears in his eyes and Scott couldn't do that to his _brother_. He couldn't.

He let Stiles have the flare.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isaac, Scott, and Allison grow closer. Kali comes after Derek for revenge. Stiles does something he never thought possible.

Scott got a little sleep on the bus home from the track meet (he'd placed 5th, even though he'd really been trying to win, or at least come in second). It was easier to sleep knowing that Ethan wasn't going to attack him or Danny during the bus ride, at least. Once they got off the bus at the school, Scott held Isaac and Stiles back with him until Ethan had got in his car and left.

Lydia and Allison got into Lydia's car, but instead of turning toward Allison's house, they turned the other way, back the way the bus had come. Maybe they were going out for dinner or something. Turning to face Stiles and Isaac, Scott said, "Let's go home."

Stiles drove, something Scott was incredibly grateful for, but when they got to the house, Stiles didn't get out of the Jeep. Standing at the driver's window, Scott asked his brother, "What's going on?"

"I've got..." Stiles sighed loudly. "Look, last night was so bad, Scott."

Heart breaking for what he'd put his brother through, Scott said, "I know."

"I _know_ that you know." Stiles dropped his head down onto the steering wheel. "There's just ... just some questions I want to ask Deaton about what happened."

"I'll come with you."

"No!" Stiles cried, his head flying up and his eyes meeting Scott's. Stiles floundered for a moment before saying, "Look, I just need, like half an hour where I'm not worried about you, okay? Just stay here, in the house, with Isaac and Mima and Dad. I'll be back soon."

Scott could understand that. And it wasn't like Stiles didn't have a history of needing some time to himself after a traumatic event, which last night definitely was. He nodded. "Yeah, okay. Drive careful, alright?"

Giving Scott a tight smile, Stiles started the Jeep's engine and said, "Don't you worry about a thing, Scotty-boy."

The Jeep pulled back out of the driveway and Scott joined Isaac on the porch. "He just … needs a little time. Is all."

"What?" Isaac seemed startled that Scott had spoken to him. "No. I mean, yeah. Some time."

After letting his Mom and Dad take care of him for a little while and taking a shower and doing his homework, Scott decided that he needed to discuss the night before with someone, and Stiles was stubbornly doing his homework at the kitchen table, mere feet from where their parents were watching TV. Scott went to the guest room door and knocked.

"Come in."

Isaac was in the act of sitting up from where it looked like he'd been laying on the bed. Their physics textbook was in his hand and it reminded Scott that Mr. Harris was still missing. Since there weren't any other warriors found sacrificed, Scott was pretty much convinced Mr. Harris had been killed.

Another death resting on Scott's conscious.

"Hey, can I talk to you?" Scott asked, closing the door and pointing to an empty spot on the bed. He waited for Isaac to nod and set his book aside before sitting down.

"Rough weekend, huh?" Isaac said, eyes down on where he was picking at the skin of one hand with the other.

"Yeah," Scott sighed. "So rough. I almost..."

Looking up, Isaac met Scott's eyes and admitted, "I didn't. I mean, some crazy shit happened, but I didn't try to kill myself like you guys."

"No?" Scott was actually relieved to hear it. Isaac had been through so much in his life. Knowing that he hadn't … succumbed to the effects of wolfsbane mixed with whatever voodoo at the Grand Capris that made werewolves suicidal, made one less person Scott really had to worry about.

Isaac shook his head. "I hid. I found a small, dark place and I hid."

"I'm glad," Scott insisted, leaning over to put his hands over Isaac's to get him to stop picking at them. Isaac met Scott's eyes again, surprise softening into something that looked more like fondness and made Scott's heart stutter. "I'm glad you're okay, Isaac. I care about you."

Isaac looked into one of Scott's eyes, and then the other, back and forth. "You really mean that."

Isaac sounded so surprised that Scott couldn't help but move closer and put his free hand on Isaac's shoulder. "Of course I do. You're worth caring about."

Isaac's eyes grew shiny with tears and then he moved forward into Scott's space and pressed his lips to Scott's. It was only as Scott kissed back that he realized he wanted this. He wanted Isaac. He'd been focused on Allison for so long that he hadn't even thought about other people as options, much less the people closest to him.

Kissing Isaac was so nice, so exactly what Scott had been craving without realizing it, that Scott's heart hurt. His heart hurt like it was bursting and his lungs burned and his eyes watered and his fingers clenched at Isaac and his dick got hard. The way Isaac pushed a hand through Scott's hair made everything that much worse, especially since that was what Allison used to do whenever Scott made out with her. 

God, Scott still wanted her. Scott wanted her here, with him, helping Scott push Isaac back against the bed and take him apart. 

Isaac let Scott push him back, so freaking easily and something clicked in Scott's mind. When Isaac freaked out about being trapped in the supply closet with Allison, Scott had pushed him down and yelled at him to get him to calm down. When Isaac went crazy on Ethan while Allison was stitching Scott up, it was Scott yelling his name, ordering him to stop, that got Isaac to back down. Isaac listened to Scott, Isaac let Scott tell him what to do.

Was Isaac doing this because he wanted to, or because he thought Scott wanted him to want to? The thought broke through the haze of want and love and trust that Scott had been embroiled in.

Scott's stomach turned. He pulled away and held Isaac back so he wouldn't follow. At the hurt look in Isaac's eyes, Scott said, "I'm sorry, I can't."

"Why?" Isaac demanded, twisting out of Scott's hold on his shoulders. "Why not? Because of Allison? I like Allison. I _like_ her, Scott. I can be what you-"

"Isaac!" Scott growled without actually meaning to, cringing as Isaac's eyes went wide. Scott softened his tone of voice and continued, "I don't want you to be anything." Scott paused and realized how that must sound, so he amended his words. "I want you to be yourself, okay? I want you to go after what _you_ want, not what you think I want you to want!"

"Okay, that didn't make any sense," Isaac said, his tone more frank than Scott had been expecting. "But I want you, I do want you. I _love_ you."

"You don't l-"

"Yes, I do," Isaac insisted. "I _love_ you. You don't get to tell me I don't."

Scott nodded. That was fair. If anyone had tried to tell Scott he didn't love Allison, he would have said the same thing. Scott wasn't sure what he felt for Isaac. He definitely thought of Isaac as a friend. He cared about Isaac. He wanted Isaac, like, a lot more than he ever thought he would.

But he still didn't like the fact that Isaac listened to him so readily. Relationships were supposed to be between equals, like with Scott's parents. They were always on equal ground and they loved each other, but they also challenged each other. They didn't blindly follow what one or the other said.

Sighing, Scott asked, "Do we have to decide anything right now, or can I take some time?"

"I wish you wouldn't," Isaac replied, scooting closer to Scott. He started leaning in like he was going to kiss Scott again and it took everything Scott had not to let him. 

Scott stood up and stepped away from the bed. "Time? Please, Isaac?"

Isaac sighed heavily and fell back onto the bed, bouncing slightly. "Fine. Fine, whatever."

Scott wanted to argue the "whatever" because getting this right was important. With the alpha pack in town and someone going around sacrificing people, Scott couldn't afford something like this getting between him and the one werewolf he knew he could trust. But maybe Scott could give it one night. Or maybe a few days. Long enough to make sure he was sure about his feelings for Isaac. Long enough to be sure Isaac wasn't making a huge mistake. 

~*~

"Cora says Kali is coming tonight," Isaac said when he showed up at Boyd's house before school. 

Walking around Isaac, toward the bus stop, Boyd said, "I know. She called me first."

"Well, don't you think we should do something about it? Help in some way?"

Boyd scoffed. "You really have been spending too much time with Scott."

The way Isaac looked down and blushed as he shrugged told Boyd everything he needed to know about how Isaac and Scott were spending their time together. Part of Boyd was jealous. He and Erica'd had Isaac first. Mostly, Boyd felt relieved. Despite the twang of jealousy, he didn't want Isaac back. They'd tried it out, but Isaac's heart had never really been in the relationship the same way his and Erica's had been. Feeling a little bit jealous was better than feeling insulted because Isaac would rather be somewhere else, but was just showing up out of habit or some weird sense of loyalty.

Taking pity of Isaac's embarrassment, Boyd asked, "You got a plan or anything?"

They arrived at the bus stop as Isaac answered. "I got as far as calling us both out sick from school. That's where my plan sort of fell apart."

Rolling his eyes, Boyd sat down on the bus stop bench. What sort of plan could they use against an alpha werewolf out for revenge? Boyd had heard from Isaac, who'd heard from Scott the story about how they'd taken down Peter Hale when he was an alpha. They'd used firebombs. Could they do the same thing here? The alphas from the alpha pack, Kali in particular, were so fast. Boyd could barely land a hit with his fist. How could he ever hope to hit her with a fire bomb?

What else? Boyd thought about what could make an alpha werewolf helpless. Personally, he'd never felt more helpless than when Gerard Argent had strung him up and attached wires to his belly to keep him weak.

So, werewolves were vulnerable to electricity. 

And one of the many things Boyd had learned about Kali while she kept him captive all summer was that she never wore shoes.

Looking up at Isaac, Boyd said, "I have an idea."

It didn’t take long for Boyd to find cables capable of carrying that kind of electric load, not with Isaac there to help read off the specifications sheet he’d found using Isaac’s phone. Maybe Derek had kicked him out and maybe Isaac had been homeless for all of about six seconds, but Isaac still had a nice phone and he’d borrowed Scott’s motorcycle. Boyd had the pre-paid emergencies-only phone he’d bought with the money he made working at the ice rink, and a bus pass.

They made it through the hardware store and to Derek’s loft within the hour, just in time for Derek to get a call from Stiles. Isaac, Boyd, and Cora all heard the frantic conversation, but Derek looked up at them anyway and told them, “Deaton’s missing.”

“So?” Cora asked and Boyd kind of had to agree with her. He’d never met this Deaton guy. All Boyd knew about him was that he pretended to be a veterinarian and that he knew some of the supernatural stuff. 

“So, he’s been taken by the Darach and he’s the only one who knows how to fight it,” Derek explained, his brows furrowing angrily. It was kind of nice to see Derek making that face at his own sister. It made Boyd feel a little better about how he’d been treated as part of Derek’s pack, if he wasn’t any nicer to his own flesh and blood.

“We’d know how to fight it if Deaton wasn’t so damn vague all the time and would just tell us everything,” Isaac pointed out, which earned him a glare from Derek. Boyd smirked at the suddenly offended look on Isaac’s face.

“If he’s still alive,” Derek said, “we have to find him. We need him.” He turned to Cora. “Deaton was important to Mom.”

Cora looked down and fidgeted a little. Then she insisted, “I’ll go help them look.”

“No,” Boyd said, standing up from where he’d been uncoiling the electric cables. “You stay here and help Derek fight. I’ll go help them look for this Deaton guy.”

Cora approached Boyd, putting her hand on his waist and speaking softly, even though the others could no doubt hear her. “Are you sure? This was your idea.”

“I’ll get it set up before I go,” Boyd assured her, pushing a lock of Cora’s hair behind her ear. “We both know who’s the better fighter between the two of us – who has a better chance of bringing Kali down if they end up in a one-to-one fight with her. Who _almost_ brought her down.” 

A slow smile spread across Cora’s face and she tilted her chin up proudly as she nodded. “We could just send Isaac. I’d rather have you here with me.”

“Isaac would rather not go on a wild goose chase,” Isaac called from across the room.

Cora frowned, but pushed back from Boyd and looked her brother straight in the eyes. “Let’s do this.”

~*~

As he and Scott were leaving Deaton’s office to go find Lydia, Stiles got a call from Boyd. “I’m helping you guys find Deaton.” Stiles heard the sound of an engine starting and wondered when Boyd got a car.

“Uh, yeah, okay,” Stiles said, hopping up into his Jeep as Scott took the passenger side. “The more feet on the ground, the better. We’re headed to the school to find Lydia.”

“Why her?”

“We’re hoping she can find us a live body this time, instead of a dead one,” Stiles replied. “Just meet us at the school.”

Stiles hung up before Boyd could respond so he could start the engine and pull out of the parking lot. As they drove, Stiles asked, “So, you’re cool with holding off on telling Dad for a little while?”

“We have to tell him sometime,” Scott insisted. “I mean, he just has no idea what’s going on and I swear, the not knowing is bad for his heart.”

Stiles sighed. “No, no you’re right. I hate it when you’re right. I just-“ Stiles drummed on the steering wheel of the Jeep with his thumbs. “I just don’t want to lose him the way we lost mom. I almost lost you the other day, man, and I can’t _keep_ losing the people I love.”

“I know,” Scott said, his hand landing firmly on Stiles’ shoulder. “I know.”

“I mean, Dad’s the kind of guy that won’t give all of this a wide berth. He’ll want to be right in the thick of things like he always is and I’ve been there, Scott. I’ve been the guy there with his human muscles and his human fingers and his human teeth, right in the thick of things. I know what a bad place it is.”

“I’ll protect both of you. I swear to God, Stiles. You’re my family.”

“Yeah,” Stiles said, sniffing and wiping the water out of one of his eyes. “Yeah.”

~*~

Allison tried to hold her breath, but what kept running through her head was the thought that Scott had to be able to hear how fast her heart was beating. This was silly. At worst, if her Dad found them, she could pretend she and Scott were back together. And from the feel of things, Scott wouldn't have any problems pulling off that lie. Shivering, Allison hissed at Scott, "Stop it!"

"I'm not doing anything!" he whispered back.

"Part of you is doing something." Allison let her gaze flick downward quickly so Scott would get the idea. The moment the realization crossed over Scott's face was obvious, despite the low lighting, and Allison had to bite her lip to keep from laughing. 

"Oh! Sorry!"

It was only after Allison turned around that she knew she hadn't solved the problem, and Scott only confirmed her suspicion. So, Allison turned around and tried to put some distance between her body and Scott's. Except, she didn't want the distance between them. She wanted there to be no distance.

Maybe it was time? Time to stop being indecisive about what she wanted and to just go for it?

Yes, it was time.

Allison leaned into Scott's space, watching his eyes as they widened for a fraction of a second and then slid closed. He leaned forward too, so Allison closed her eyes in anticipation of the kiss.

It never came. Scott had dodged away at the last second, his hands on her upper arms. Allison's eyes flew open and she gave Scott a questioning glance. "What?"

"I, uh," Scott whispered, pushing back from Allison with his hands still on her arms, holding her away from him. As he leaned back, his head knocked against the loose hangers at the end of the bar, and they clattered together before Allison could reach out and stop them from swinging. 

They both froze, waiting for Allison's dad to hear them and come find them, but instead of coming closer, his footsteps stayed in the other room. After a minute, Allison started to breathe easier again. She wanted to let Scott's reluctance to kiss her go, because there was a lot more at stake here than her love life, but she was just too curious about what he'd been going to say. "Scott?"

"Huh?" he asked, attention still out with Dad. Scott looked at Allison's face for a second before he took a sharp breath. "Oh. Right. I, um... I made out with Isaac."

"Oh." Allison knew she shouldn't be as surprised as she was, but some part of her must have believed that Lydia didn't know what she was talking about when it came to Scott and Isaac. "Um, okay. I mean, I mean good for you." She tried to mean it. She really did. But Allison couldn't help but be jealous. Maybe if she'd still been with Scott, it would have been fine. It would have been great, actually. "I like Isaac. Not that I have, um, _any_ say in your love life anymore."

"I wish you did." Scott's eyebrows knit together and he drew one of his thumbs along Allison's cheekbone. "I still love you, Allison, and I'm waiting for you to be ready, but …" Scott sighed. "There's good reasons most people don't stay in couples for very long. It's not..."

"No, I know," Allison said. "I saw it with my parents. You get too dependant on the other person. It's not balanced."

"Right." Scott nodded sadly before resting his forehead down against Allisons. "I don't know how long I can ask Isaac to wait for us. I should tell him I can't be what he wants."

The thought of Scott sacrificing his happiness, the happiness he could have with Isaac, just for her made Allison's heart break. "No," she insisted, hating the way her eyes started to water. "No, don't do that. Please, Scott, don't do that for me."

"I'll wait for you. I'll wait for you forever."

God, Allison believed it. She believed him. He would wait as long as Allison needed him to wait. "That's not fair," she said, even as she closed the distance between them and pressed her lips to Scott's. For a moment, it seemed like Scott wouldn't kiss her back. But then he did. He pushed back against her lips and his arms wound around her back, fingers digging into her flesh like he never wanted to let go.

Allison didn't want to let go, either.

The slamming of the front door made Allison jump and pull away from Scott. She couldn't get lost in devastating kisses, not when Dr. Deaton was in trouble and everyone else in town was a target. As she opened the closet door, she told Scott, "Not much longer, okay? But a little bit."

"Okay," Scott said, the edges of his lips twitching upward like he was trying not to grin. As serious as the day was, Allison kind of wished he would smile. She'd missed it, and she'd especially missed knowing that smile was for her.

~*~

Lydia gave Boyd a long look before asking him, "So, werewolves, huh?"

Raising one eyebrow at her, Boyd rolled his eyes and went back to watching the road. They were on their way to the Animal Clinic, where they would meet Stiles with Danny's research and Scott with Mr. Argent's map. Hopefully they could put all the information together in time, because Lydia was getting very sick of finding bodies.

Rubbing her finger against the dash, Lydia asked, "This your car?"

"Derek's," Boyd replied, and Lydia wondered if Boyd ever spoke more than one word at a time. She also wondered why Derek had an SUV, when last she'd heard Derek had one of the coolest cars in town. Jackson had even been jealous, despite his Porsche, and Lydia had heard all about it.

They pulled up outside the vet clinic and Boyd cut the engine. "No one's here yet."

Lydia bit her tongue so she wouldn't say, "Duh." Allison's apartment was all the way across town and Stiles had to go to the hospital and come back before he could meet them. Instead she studied Boyd a little bit more. Eventually she said, "I remember the project you did for science class last fall. The one about jet engines. Very nice demonstration of the principles."

Shrugging, Boyd replied, "I like planes."

Lydia's first reaction was to ask why, but she figured he wouldn't tell her. Instead, she just said, "Okay," and studied her nails in the quickly waning sunlight. Looking at the time, Lydia asked, "When is the big battle with Kali?"

"Soon," Boyd replied, leaning back in his seat and rubbing his nose with one finger. "Not exactly sure when. After sunset."

That seemed to be the end of the conversation, at least as far as Boyd wanted to carry it anyway. God, it was like trying to talk to a brick wall that occasionally gave back dry, sarcastic answers. Just like Lydia's mother. "And … Derek has a sister now?"

"He used to have two." Boyd rolled his head over so he was looking at Lydia, like he was daring her to ask another question.

Lydia snapped her mouth shut. She got some of the story from Jackson and a lot more of it from Stiles. Derek came to Beacon Hills looking for his sister, who turned up dead and in pieces. And now this Cora person was back from God knows where.

Now, Lydia had seen enough daytime tv with her mother to know that long-lost relatives were almost never a good thing. Of course, there was a difference between TV and the real world. More people tended to die in the real world, to be honest.

A yawn caught Lydia by surprise. It was no wonder, as she wasn't getting much sleep lately, and it was wreaking havoc on her body. Especially her poor, milky skin. A few more weeks of bad sleep and she'd probably look like the before pictures in the Proactiv commercials. No, thank you. Beauty sleep was proven to regulate hormone levels, especially those involved with stress.

Lydia had enough stress in her life without lack of sleep adding to it, but that didn't look like it was going to change anytime soon. She was in this now and there was no more blissful ignorance to be had. Not that ignorance had been blissful by any means. Ever since she saw … whatever she had seen at the video store, Lydia had been involved. She got pulled deeper when Peter bit her, the bastard, and even further when she needed to save Jackson from himself.

God, and now Lydia was too far into her head for her liking. She turned to Boyd and asked, "Do you have any sort of personality?"

Boyd raised that eyebrow at her again, so Lydia raised one right back. Something must have caught him right, because the edge of Boyd's lip twitched upward, like he was trying not to laugh.

"Ah, I suspect you do," Lydia cried. "So out with it. I'm bored and you're going to tell me your story."

"Not much to tell," Boyd insisted, shifting in his seat. "Was born, grew up, got the bite, now I'm a werewolf."

Huffing, Lydia told him, "You really have a way with words, you know that?"

"I know that pretty soon we're going to have to find one veterinarian-shaped needle in this haystack of a town, that the only person I care about is going to be fighting for her life any minute now, and that I'm not there to help her."

Using the mention of "her" as a clue, Lydia surmised that Boyd was talking about Cora. Stiles had filled her in on the whole situation where Cora had been trapped in the same vault as Boyd, but Lydia hadn't made the leap until now to figure that they must have grown close. She wondered how long the other werewolf, Erica, had been alive and whether all three of them had been close-close. But Erica was dead now and Boyd had to be afraid Cora would be soon as well. "You should go," Lydia told him. "I'll be fine until the others get here."

"And what happens if you find Deaton and this Darach is still there? You think you, Scott, and Stilinski will be a match for it?"

"You don't?" Lydia asked, genuinely concerned. "If you know something the rest of us don't..."

Boyd sighed at Lydia and turned in his seat to face her, resting his arm on the steering wheel. "Look, I knew Kyle. The guy they found along the cross-country trail the other day?"

Heart dropping into her stomach, because she really was awful with grief, Lydia insisted, "I'm so sorry."

Waving off her concern, Boyd continued, "Kyle was a strong dude. Not werewolf-strong, but he was a black belt and he was good. Whatever took him was better than that, so I figure it's got to be something pretty awful."

Tilting her head as she worked over Boyd's logic, Lydia said, "I think you're probably right. There've been eight deaths so far. You either have to be very strong or very smart to pull that off."

"The way my luck's been going lately," Boyd scoffed, turning back to face out the windshield, "I bet the Darach's both."

Lydia shivered and watched as the headlights of the Jeep shone across the parking lot.

~*~

When Scott got to him, Deaton was still very much alive. He was starting to look tired, but he didn't look like he was on death's door like Scott had been expecting. He rushed forward and bounced back like he'd hit a wall. There at his feet was a ring of mountain ash, preventing Scott from getting to Deaton.

Scott tried to get past the mountain ash line. He tried and he tried and he tried so hard that he actually got an inch through the barrier before it threw him back onto the ground. And then footsteps and a voice caught Scott's attention.

"Why don't you let me give it a shot, son?"

There stood Scott's dad, his sheriff's badge gleaming in the little bit of auxiliary light coming from one edge of the vault. He raised his gun and for a fraction of a second, Scott thought his dad had seen him wolf out and was about to shoot him. When it was obvious that wasn't the case, Scott decided that Dad was going to shoot Deaton instead. It was only after the bullet sliced through the rope and Deaton fell down and out of the mountain ash circle, that Scott realized his father's plan.

Too grateful to worry about whether or not Dad had seen him with yellow eyes and sharp teeth and claws, Scott scrambled over to Deaton to check to make sure he was okay.

After Deaton had revealed what he knew about True Alphas, which Scott was still having trouble wrapping his brain around, and the paramedics took him away, Scott met up with his Dad. Or rather, Dad caught him by the back of the neck and asked, "So, do I want to know how you ended up here tonight?"

"Um, no?" Scott said, since he couldn't think up a lie quick enough. Stiles was always the one who could lie without prepping the lie beforehand. But Stiles wasn't here and Scott sucked at lying without him to rely on.

Dad sighed and pulled Scott into a hug, which Scott gladly returned. Before he could stop himself, Scott admitted, "I was so afraid I was going to get here too late."

"Me too," Dad said, clapping Scott on the back a few more times before pulling away. "But did you see your old man's shooting?"

"I did!" Scott allowed himself a grin. "That was so cool." Then he paused and laughed a little. "What would you have done if you missed?"

Shrugging, Dad said, "I don't know. Hiked you up on my shoulders and handed you my pocket knife?"

"Good plan, Dad," Scott said. "And how was I going to explain that to Mom when you threw your back out again?"

"Oh, shut up," Dad said with a chuckle, cuffing Scott lightly on the back of the head.

~*~

"Now, Lydia!" Stiles cried into his phone as he and Boyd reached the loft. Kali and Derek were both in the water, but Stiles figured they were going to kill each other anyway. If he could stop it, he would. Stiles sneered at one of the alpha twins when the guy looked back at him, but he didn't say anything. They'd figure out his and Boyd's plan soon enough.

But the electricity didn't turn on and Derek and Kali kept fighting each other. They kept killing each other.

"Lydia?"

"I'm _trying_ ," she hissed into the phone. "It's stuck. Oh! There we-"

Stiles noticed Boyd about to jump into the water to come toward them and he cried, "Boyd! No, don't!"

But it was too late. The electricity came on as soon as Boyd stepped into the water, and he, Kali, and Derek all went down.

"Cut it!" Stiles cried at Lydia as the twins threw Ms. Blake toward him and attacked Isaac. Stiles caught Ms. Blake and she looked so freaking scared that Stiles couldn't help but put an arm around her.

Shit, this was not at all how this thing was supposed to go. Stiles could see Derek on his knees and one hand, Kali already getting to her feet, and Boyd on his back, but moving. Well, Boyd had only been partially right -- the electricity hadn't killed the werewolves, but it looked like it set them reeling, anyway.

"Grab him!" Kali shouted out and the twins shoved Isaac back at Stiles and Ms. Blake. Isaac looked winded, but not hurt and Stiles put a hand on Isaac's arm to keep him from doing something stupid. Like Cora was doing.

"No!" Cora cried when the twins tried to pick up Boyd, throwing herself at the shorter one. The twin, Stiles thought he might have been Ethan, pushed Cora down and away, making her land hard in the water. She got back up and went at them again, but the taller twin grabbed Cora's arm and swung her around by it, making her hit the wall next to Stiles hard. She didn't get back up, so Stiles pulled her in close in case he had to get them all out of there fast. 

Stiles felt like he was watching everything fall apart. Again. Everyone here was going to die, probably sooner rather than later. Boyd first, since Kali was holding his body up and the twins were doing something with Derek, holding out his claws toward Boyd's chest. Stiles had lost too many people already. Mom, Erica, Heather, probably Deaton, even Mr. Harris. And no matter what Boyd said, Stiles considered the guy a friend. He didn't help search for Boyd all summer to lose him too.

Without really knowing what he was doing, Stiles latched one hand each on Ms. Blake's and Cora's arms, drew a deep breath, and yelled, "STOP!"

Kali flew away from Boyd, hitting the brick wall of the loft and falling down into a motionless pile. Everyone turned to stare at Stiles. Well, except for Boyd, who crumpled down into the water like his legs were incapable of holding him up any longer. Feeling his face grow hot, Stiles let go of Ms. Blake and Cora, and not knowing what the hell to say, shrugged.

When someone finally moved, it was one of the twins, dropping Derek and going to Kali, who was still motionless. "Is she...?" Stiles asked quietly.

Isaac shook his head. "I think I can still hear her heartbeat."

The other twin let go of Derek and turned toward Stiles, growling at him, which as many times as Stiles had seen it, never got less scary. Isaac growled back, putting himself in front of Stiles and Derek's growl followed close behind. The twin kept his teeth bared, but he didn't attack. Instead he kept himself between everyone else and his brother as the other twin carried Kali out of the loft.

Lydia showed up after the alphas were gone. "What did I miss?"

"I beat them!" Stiles cried, finally standing up. "I beat the alphas with the power of my mind!"

"It was a group effort," Isaac said, rolling his eyes as he helped Ms. Blake to her feet.

Boyd was crawling through the water toward Cora, who was finally holding one hand to her head. As Stiles helped Boyd get Cora sitting up, he added, "Yeah, but it was mostly me. _I am strong with the force_!" He looked down at Cora and Boyd. "You guys okay?"

Cora nodded before wincing and putting a hand to the bloody patch on her head. Boyd said, "Yeah." Stiles was going to call that good and go brag to Lydia some more, but Boyd caught his wrist, holding it with fingers colder than what Stiles was used to from a werewolf. "Hey. Thanks."

Stiles met Boyd's eyes and instead of the grudgingly grateful look he was expecting, Stiles saw something softer in the worried tilt of Boyd's eyebrows. "No, yeah. I mean, sure. Anytime, for _a friend_." Stiles grinned at Boyd, who managed a small smile in return. Stiles thought Boyd should smile more. It made him look so much more approachable and handsome.

"Hey." Stiles looked down at Cora, expecting her to complain about the sudden sentimentality, but her gaze was on the other side of the room. Stiles turned to see Derek and Ms. Blake wrapped around each other with what looked like desperate relief. And also like it wasn't the first time they'd been so close. "Since when has...?"

"Dunno," Stiles replied. Looking over at Boyd, he asked, "You?"

"No idea," Boyd looped his arm around Cora's waist and they sort of helped each other to their feet, despite Stiles being right there, capable of helping. "I guess that's why the alphas brought her as leverage."

"Yeah, I guess so," Stiles said, watching as Derek pulled back far enough to kiss Ms. Blake with this gentle single mindedness that physically hurt to watch. It wasn't just that the kiss was emotional, because it was, but mostly it hurt because Stiles wanted someone to want him like that. Hell, he wanted Derek to want him like that.

The only person who had ever wanted Stiles in a capacity that even approached how Derek and Ms. Blake wanted each other was Heather. And she was dead.

~*~

Stiles managed to get out of the house without anyone noticing him. Granted, his dad was still at the station, Mima had crashed hard after her shift at the hospital and Scott and Isaac were doing _something_ that looked a lot like passing out while spooning in Isaac's bed. Stiles didn't need to stick around for that. 

After years of waiting at the hospital for Mima to finish her shift so he could go home, Stiles knew the building like the back of his hand. He knew how to get in and out without anyone seeing him, he knew when certain nurses liked to take their breaks and leave the nurses' station unstaffed, and he knew exactly where Alan Deaton's room was when he found the room number in the records computer.

Stiles slipped into the room quietly, easing the door shut. He expected Deaton to be sleeping, or at least resting, so when Stiles turned around to see Deaton watching him with curiosity on his face, Stiles jumped. "Oh, uh hi, Dr. Deaton."

"Stiles," Deaton said with a slight nod. One of his eyebrows was kind of messed up with stitches and his wrists were wrapped with bandages, but otherwise Deaton looked pretty good for a guy who'd almost died a few hours previously. "Did Scott send you to check up on me? I assure you, I'm perfectly safe."

"No," Stiles said, shaking his head before taking the chair near Deaton's bed without asking. "No, I'm here for a different reason." Clearing his throat, Stiles made sure to add, "But I'm totally glad you're okay."

Deaton hummed and it turned into a sigh. "While that's nice to hear, Stiles, I do have to tell you that I'm feeling rather tired."

"I did something." Stiles hadn't meant to blurt that out like a confession, but Deaton's time seemed limited, so Stiles was going to maximize his mission here. "Tonight. I did a spell or something. Instead of a mountain ash circle, though, it was way cooler."

"And how do you define cooler?"

Jesus, this was like talking to the therapist he'd seen for a few months after Mom died. All questions and no answers. "I did this crazy Force-push telepathy thing on Kali. It knocked her right out. I think I might have saved Boyd's life!"

Deaton's brows furrowed together and he stared at Stiles like he was seeing something for the first time. "It was definitely you? No one else could have been responsible?"

"No," Stiles insisted, shaking his head vehemently. "At least, I don't think so. It felt like this-this, like _rush_ of power when I wanted her to stop. I screamed at her to stop."

Frowning some more, Deaton touched his face and winced when his fingers brushed some of the stitches. "Stiles, you have to tell me _everything_ about what happened. No detail is too small."

"You wanna know what I had for breakfast?" Stiles asked with a smirk, which faded at the sight of Deaton's unimpressed frown. After a heavy sigh, Stiles told Deaton everything he could about what had happened.

"Who _exactly_ was next to you?" Deaton asked as Stiles finished up.

"Uh." Stiles had to think back for a moment, but the tense nature of the moment had cemented the scene in his mind. "Isaac, Cora, and Ms. Blake. Who I guess has a thing with Derek? And that's why the alphas brought her? I don't know. I didn't see that part."

Deaton waved off Stiles' concern and instead asked, "Were you touching any of them?"

"I remember holding onto _someone_ ," Stiles said, closing his eyes to help him remember. He reached his hands out to where they had been when he yelled at Kali to stop. "I think... Yeah. Cora was on my right.” Stiles could practically feel her hard-with-muscle shoulder under his hand. “And Ms. Blake was on my left. I don’t... I don’t know why I grabbed onto them like that.”

“We humans aren’t as helpless as we may seem,” Deaton said, like that was any sort of answer at all.

Stiles huffed at him in response. “So, what did I actually do? I mean, I’ve been human my whole life, but I’ve never done something like _that_ before.”

“Antonie van Leeuwenhoek couldn’t see bacteria until he used a microscope.”

It took Stiles a few seconds to work out what Deaton meant. “So, something magnified whatever I already had?”

“Not something. _Someone_. There are other possibilities, but that seems the most likely.” Deaton laid back his head and blinked a few times, each blink getting longer than the last. “I need – I need to make a few inquiries. We’ll figure it out.”

Deaton’s eyes slipped closed again and Stiles figured he was working with borrowed time as it was. If someone caught him in here, they’d kick him out _and_ call his Mima. “Okay, then. Thanks for the talk.” So, maybe a little bit of sarcasm slipped into his voice. He was only _human_ after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the awesome beta work go to [thewildestcucmber](http://thewildestcucmber.tumblr.com) and [dame-c](http://dame-c.tumblr.com)!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jen gets kidnapped by the alpha pack for the second time in two days, and this time it has nothing to do with her being Derek Hale's girlfriend. The pack tries to find her before Deucalion can set his plans for her in motion.

Derek woke when Jen left that morning, and he hated to let her go. He liked knowing she was with him, and safe. The way he felt about her was strange, and he recognized that, but he also didn't care. There was so much wrong in his life, so few people he could trust, if he could trust any of them at all, that Derek just wanted this one good thing for himself.

Overnight all of the water had drained out from the loft floor, though the whole apartment still smelled damp. Derek threw open the windows to try to avoid mold setting in, and he started moving the furniture back from the storage area next to the elevator. As he was getting the desk back in place, making sure it was exactly the way he wanted it, one of the drawers slipped open. Derek caught it before the contents spilled, but right away he noticed that something was missing.

The lock of Erica's hair.

The alphas had sent it after they first captured Erica and Boyd, and it had been sitting in that drawer since Derek moved in. Where could it have gone? It was the only thing Derek had left of her and where the _fuck_ could it have gone?

When his phone rang, Derek picked it up without looking at the caller ID. "What?"

"Ohh-kayyy," Stiles' voice said over the phone. "Something wrong?"

"It's nothing," Derek insisted, shuffling around in the drawer a little more before closing it and opening the drawer below. It had to be in here somewhere, didn't it?

"Nothing is good."

After a short and confusing silence, Derek asked, "You called for a reason?"

"Yeah, um. Right. I did. So, uh, Ms. Blake?" Stiles' voice got a little higher, like his nerves were straining it.

"What about her?"

"Is she with you? Because she's not here, where I am, in English class. So I thought maybe she was just with you and everything was cool and-"

"No," Derek whispered. No, it couldn't be. Why would the alphas take her? They'd had her the night before. Why did they have to give her back only to take her away again. "No!"

Over the line, Stiles said, "Now, hang on. Don't get upset. Maybe she's just taking a mental health day. After what happened last night, it's not like you could blame her."

Jamming his feet into his shoes, Derek replied, "Two hours ago, she told me she was going to be at school all day. Something's wrong."

"Shit."

Before Stiles could talk to him anymore, Derek hung up and left his apartment. As he vaulted down the staircase, because it was quicker, Stiles called again. Derek declined the call and turned his phone to silent. 

He hoped to everything he held sacred that Jen was alright. Maybe she'd gotten home to change and just fallen asleep. That happened to people, right?

Derek broke probably a dozen laws on his way to Jen's apartment, and he cursed himself for not being able to find it right away. Sure, he'd only been there once, when he was gravely injured, but forgetting the locations of places - safe or unsafe - got you killed, Derek. 

The apartment was empty. It smelled stale, like no one had been here in at least a day. How could he have been so stupid to just let Jen leave? How could he have let her convince him that she needed to go to work and that she would be fine? How could he have let something as good and right as her slip through his fingers again?

In as close to a rage as Derek let himself get, he drove back to the loft, tracking Jen's scent from there. It was hours old now, and faint, but still there. Derek refused to believe he'd lost her. Not yet. Not when the scent of Jen's skin was still in the air.

~*~

"Hey," Boyd heard from the other side of his locker door. "I need you to come with me. Like, right now."

Closing his locker door, Boyd told Stiles, "I have physics. I already missed the quiz yesterday."

"Well, your stomach bug came back." Stiles got around in front of Boyd and stopped, standing his ground so Boyd would have to at least go around him. Stepping a little closer and up on his toes a little, Stiles whispered, "Ms. Blake is missing. I think Derek went after her, but he's not answering his phone."

Boyd knew the reason everything went back to Derek was because the dude was the alpha, but that didn't make it any less annoying. "How is this my problem?"

Stiles made this indignant, choking noise in his throat, which Boyd decided was actually a little cute. Since Stiles seemed speechless for once, Boyd stepped around him and kept moving down the hallway. It didn't take Stiles more than a few steps before he caught up. "Dude, really? Derek spent all summer looking for you. I know, I watched him do it day in and day out. He _barely_ slept. And you can't ditch one day of school to go looking for him?"

"Look," Boyd said, pulling Stiles to the side of the hallway. "I get it. I know Derek's in trouble and I owe it to him to be there. But I also owe it to my parents, and Kyle, and _Erica_ to graduate goddamned high school, okay? Just give me until after sixth period, and I'm all yours." Boyd had two hours of study hall after his last subject class because by the time he'd been able to register for classes after having been gone, both of the electives he wanted (shop and ceramics) had been full.

Stiles gaped a little, gave Boyd this odd sort of half-smirk, and then asked, "Does Cora even go to school?"

Rubbing the ache between his eyes that had been caused by too little sleep, Boyd replied, "No. I know Derek wanted her to go, but she's not enrolled or anything yet."

Stiles nodded. "We'll put her on the case until sixth period. Then we'll all cut out together, okay, man?"

"Okay," Boyd agreed, giving Stiles' shoulder an awkward pat. He'd looked like he needed it.

Stiles beamed at Boyd in return and as he ran off, probably to go find Scott, Boyd got a clenching feeling in his gut. Well, shit. He understood Erica's crush so much better now.

~*~

When the hand clamped over her mouth, Jen’s first thought was, _Not again!_ It had been just over 12 hours since she’d been snatched coming out of the school by Ethan and Aiden Vargstrom. At first she feared some sort of strange student-on-teacher vengeance, but that didn’t make any sense. Both boys were doing very well in her class, despite a few unexplained absences. Jen figured it out when she heard them talking to the woman they called Kali about Derek.

Jen wondered if she was in this mess again because of Derek. They blindfolded her this time and tied her hands together, but the hands felt similar to the night before and the car sounded and smelled the same. She should have let Derek come home with her. It didn’t matter that he’d been electrocuted half to death right in front of her. She should have called in sick and stayed with him and not made herself vulnerable like this.

God, Jen could be so stupid.

She also thought she could probably be more scared than she was, but that it probably wouldn’t do her any good. Either Derek would find her in time, or she was already dead, and her brain decided it was going to gloss over all the other possibilities, despite how many she _almost_ came up with.

After the car ride, there was an elevator ride, and then a room where Jen was told by one of the twins (she recognized the voice belonged to one of them, but couldn’t determine which one), “Sit here and be quiet, and you’ll probably survive this.”

Jen gulped nervously at his use of the word, “probably.” She wanted to ask if she could take off the blindfold, but the words didn’t come. Instead, she just sat there. Useless.

After a while, when Jen was mostly convinced she was actually alone in the room, she said quietly, "You know, I don't think Derek even likes me that much. He kicked me out of his apartment this morning. So, you know, he probably won't care about whatever you're going to do to me."

"Now, that's just not true," said a man with a British accent, making Jen jump in surprise. There _was_ actually someone here! "We heard how little Derek wanted to let you go this morning. You should have listened to him."

Jen couldn't help the whimper that escaped her lips. Oh, god! All those possibilities her brain refused to consider were going to come true! She was so, so fucked.

Someone sat down on the couch and unsettled a lock of Jen's hair. She flinched away and whimpered again. The tiny bit of self defense she knew from going to a class with her last girlfriend wasn't even going to work. Not when the people who had taken her were like Derek. Alpha werewolves.

"Now, now," the voice said. "Shh. Be calm, Jennifer. We didn't bring you here to torture poor Derek Hale."

"No?" Jen worried at the bindings around her wrists with one finger, though it was obvious she wouldn't be able to break them.

"No." The man beside Jen leaned in closer, the heat of his body radiating against Jen's side and arm. Then he whispered in her ear. "You're something altogether more interesting than Derek Hale's girlfriend."

Jen shuddered. She did not like the turn this conversation was taking at all. Well, if you didn't like the conversation, it was up to you and no one else to change it, right? "I _am_ a pretty awesome English teacher. Do you have some literature you'd like to discuss?"

The man laughed and tugged on Jen's blindfold until it came off. It was bright, so it took Jen a few seconds of blinking her watery eyes before she could see that she was in an apartment - a really nice one, to be honest. She looked over at the man beside her. He wore sunglasses and looked like he might be handsome behind them, if it weren't for the completely terrifying feeling Jen got from him. It was like he took up much more space than his physical body, and Jen recognized the feeling. Derek felt that way sometimes, too.

"Do you know the story of Orpheus and Eurydice?" The man sat back with his body angled toward her, but Jen noticed the way he didn't actually look at her. Not that she could really see his line of sight behind those glasses, but she definitely got the impression that he wasn't looking at her as he waited for her answer.

"They-" Jen cleared her voice when it didn't come out properly. "They were to be married, but Eurydice died. Orpheus went to the underworld and played such beautiful music that he convinced the gods to let him take her back with him."

"And they agreed, didn't they?"

Jen shivered at the smile the man gave her. It made her think of a dog about to snap, rather than a human gesture of goodwill. She nodded. "But there was a catch. Orpheus had to have faith in the gods. He couldn't look back until he and Eurydice were both out of the underworld. Otherwise, she would disappear."

The man hummed and nodded, resting one finger to his temple. "But we all know what happened, don't we? Orpheus was overcome by doubt just as he was about to fulfill his quest. He looked back."

"And she disappeared," Jen added softly, wondering if she was Eurydice in this instance. Held to lure Derek into the underworld only to be disappeared at the last instant. "Derek won't come for me."

With a chuckle, the man replied, "My dear, I am not Hades and Derek, even if he did have the slightest hint of musical talent, would _never_ be able to convince me to give you up, now that I've found you."

"Wh-what?" Jen asked, her entire body going cold with dread. "No. I'm no one. I'm a _teacher_."

The man leaned forward and looked directly at Jen's face, which made her start to doubt the guess that he was blind. "How long have you heard the voices, Jennifer?"

Instantly, Jen knew what he was referring to. It was something only her mother and her therapist knew about. How could he have found out? How could this be happening? Her medical records were supposed to be _sealed_ , damn it! "I don't anymore!" Jennifer wiped off a stray tear on her sleeve. "I don't hear them anymore!"

Leaning closer, the man whispered in Jen's ear, "And how much medication does it take to accomplish that unnatural feat?"

Jen had been fighting the voices and all the insecurities and paranoia that came with them ever since she could remember. To have a stranger _kidnap_ her and then talk about this secret shame she'd been hiding for so long was too much to bear. Jen broke into sobs. "So much! So m-many pills!"

"And what if I told you that there's absolutely nothing wrong with you? And there never was." The man's voice was steady, unfailing, like he believed his words wholeheartedly. 

God, he believed his words! Jen took a shaky breath and couldn't quite meet his eyes. "I'd say you were delusional."

"That may very well be the case," he chuckled. "But not about this. Jennifer Blake..." He paused and put one of his hands over hers. It felt dry and very warm, like Derek's always had been. "...you are not mentally ill. There's nothing wrong with you, though people like you are very rare."

"People like me?" Jen laughed. "You mean crazy people?"

"I mean the daughters and sons of Orpheus. Those with one foot in the underworld, never quite belonging here or there. Those able to speak with the gods of hell and with the dead, and sometimes even strike that bargain to bring the dead back to life."

Jen's eyes went wide. The man said these things with such steadfast conviction, there was no way he was putting her on. "You actually _believe_ that!"

"It's the truth," he said, taking Jen's bound hands and bringing them up to his lips for a gentle kiss, which Jen had to admit, though probably intended to be sweet, was actually incredibly creepy. "As our friend Stiles found out last night, you have incredible potential as a Medium. As _my_ Medium."

"Yeah, I don't like the sound of that." Jen tried to pull her hands back, but the man's hold on her arms was too tight. "I don't- I don't even know your name."

"Deucalion," he said, placing Jen's hands back down on her lap and patting them before drawing back. "It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Ms. Blake. And come moonrise, we'll be getting to know one another much, much better."

Jen clenched her teeth together and looked away from Deucalion, willing herself to stop crying and start looking for a way out of this mess. There was no way she was going to "get to know" this man any better than she already did. Not if she could help it.

~*~

Isaac stood outside the inner circle, with Boyd and Lydia, as Stiles, Scott, Allison, and Cora made their plans for finding Derek. It was interesting the way they argued. Allison was a big proponent of the, "If we find who took Ms. Blake, we'll find Derek," strategy, while Cora favored the grid-by-grid search method and Stiles tried to insist they enlist Danny's help finding Derek's phone, because, "It worked last time Derek went missing!"

Isaac watched as Scott took in all the strategies, nodding, and thought them over. His face was so expressive, Isaac could practically see the way Scott turned over each possibility in his head, the way he saw the whole picture. Turning to Allison, Scott asked, "Who do we think could have taken Ms. Blake?"

"Well," Allison replied, giving Scott this cute half-smirk like she was sure she'd convinced Scott of her plan and wanted to gloat over the victory, but didn't have the time. "It's either the alpha pack or the Darach, right?" She looked over at Cora, "Unless there's something else out there no one's told us about."

Sneering, Cora said, "What would the Darach want with Ms. Blake? It's obviously the alphas."

"Oh, obviously," Stiles snorted sarcastically. "Because the Darach taking Mr. Harris made so much sense."

"He. Was. A. Warrior!" Cora cried, though she ended the outburst with a little smirk in Stiles' direction.

As the argument continued, Isaac leaned toward Boyd and said, "Dude," while nodding at Stiles and Cora. "You see that?"

"What?" Boyd asked with a bored expression, turning his eyes toward the group at the table.

Before Isaac could respond, Lydia leaned over him to address Boyd, "Your girlfriend's obviously flirting with Stiles. And if _I_ can hear you, so can she."

Cora's eyes flicked over to them and she smirked again, and Isaac saw the uncomfortable look cross Scott's face, which meant he heard them, too. Some days Isaac thought he was getting the hang of this whole werewolf thing, but some days it felt like he knew nothing at all. At least Allison hadn't heard how stupid Isaac could be.

“Well, whatever we do,” Allison said, “we’re going to have to split up to cover more ground.”

“Unless I can get my idea working,” Stiles said, typing away furiously at his phone.

Allison rolled her eyes, but she said, “Right. Anyway, some of us start looking for the alphas, the others start looking for the Darach?”

“We could use that map,” Isaac said, catching first Allison’s and then Scott’s eyes. “The one with those telluric currents? The Darach seems to like leaving bodies at those places, maybe he likes hanging out at them too?”

Nodding, Allison gave Isaac a smile that made his heart stutter. God, she was just so pretty and hot. “It’s as good a place to start as any. Why don’t you, Scott and I go that route? Stiles, you take Boyd, Cora, and Lydia and go looking at the places we know the alphas hang out?” Allison shuffled the papers on the table around and started unfolding one of the maps.

“I’m not going looking for alpha werewolves,” Lydia said, her eyebrows practically at her hairline and her lips pushed out in an unimpressed pout. “Or do we all not remember what happened last time I was alone with one?"

“But you won’t _be_ alone,” Stiles argued. Isaac rolled his eyes. It was obvious that Stiles still cared about Lydia, but his crush hadn’t been this blatant in months. It was ridiculous, too, because it was obvious she didn’t like him back.

Isaac hoped he wasn’t going through the same thing with Allison. He _knew_ Scott liked him back, the way he’d gotten into their kiss had been evidence of that. But, Isaac didn’t know whether or not Allison liked him, or was just being nice to him because she loved Scott and wanted to get along with his friends. 

“It doesn’t matter.” Lydia sauntered up to the table where Allison had just finished unfolding the map. “And besides, why don’t we just start in one place?” Lydia plonked her index finger down on one intersection of the map and Isaac moved forward so he could see the place she indicated. 

Everyone else leaned forward as well, and Scott asked, “Allison’s building? Deucalion’s apartment?”

“Why not? You people don’t always hang around in dank, dusty, unused buildings, do you?” She looked around and Isaac shrugged.

He’d only been a werewolf for a few months, so he couldn’t say what was typical. It had only been a couple of months at the old railway service station before Derek had found the loft. And then he’d moved to Scott’s house.

“So why wouldn’t we think the alphas would bring Ms. Blake somewhere they felt comfortable? Plus, it’s right at the intersection of this line and this line.” She drew across both lines with her finger and sure enough, they intersected right at Allison’s building.

“Huh,” Allison said, leaning toward the map. Scott leaned closer too, his head bent close to Allison’s. The sight made Isaac’s heart hurt, because he could so easily envision the two of them bent over the morning paper, waiting for Isaac to pour his own cup of coffee and join them. He could so easily envision their heads bent together as they laid in bed, leaving one side open for Isaac to come join them. It was so easy to imagine a life with the two of them and Isaac wasn’t quite sure how to make that dream a reality. It wasn’t like he had good role models for healthy relationships. His own mom and pop had left him alone with his Dad and his brother so long ago, he couldn’t remember them ever being all three together. He couldn’t even remember what his mother looked like. So how was Isaac supposed to know how to do this?

How was he supposed to know how to not screw it up the way he always screwed everything up?

“I don’t think they’re going to be that obvious,” Boyd spoke up, finally joining the rest of them at the table. “Cora and I were with them for months, while they had us locked in that vault. They always came back at a random time of day, like they were afraid of us learning a pattern and getting the jump on them.”

“What did they have to fear from a bunch of betas?” Stiles asked, his voice disbelieving. It made Isaac want to strangle him, just a little. That, and the way he squeezed the toothpaste from the middle, even though _everyone_ knew you were supposed to squeeze it from the end.

Cora stepped a little closer to Stiles, looked up at him through her brows (which was actually kind of hot, Isaac had to admit), and said in this low, dangerous voice, “Do you know why zoo keepers won’t take wild animals captured and forced into captivity? Why they prefer animals that have been raised in captivity?”

“Why?” Scott asked in this enthralled voice, even though Stiles’ mouth was open like he was about to say something. 

“Because the wild animals, when they’re used to freedom, go completely, batshit, _insane_ when you put them behind bars.” Cora leaned back and crossed her arms, giving a sage nod. “They’re too dangerous to work with. _That’s_ why the alphas were afraid of us.” Cora’s smirk turned into a frown, her brows tilted up. “That’s why Kali didn’t hesitate to kill her when Erica attacked."

Cora's obvious grief pretty much shut down the conversation. When Stiles opened his mouth again, this time with a finger raised like he was going to argue, Scott put a hand on his brother's arm and shook his head. Isaac had to give Cora props for figuring out how to get everyone on her side almost instantly, just by mentioning Erica. Turning to her, Isaac asked, "Where do _you_ suggest we look?"

"Boyd's right. They're not going to be at Deucalion's apartment. Not for this. We should find every other intersection of these lines, split them up, and start checking them out."

"For what?" Stiles asked, inching a little closer to Cora. "Why do you think he took Ms. Blake?"

Stiles wouldn't have been able to hear it, but Isaac heard the way Cora's heartbeat sped up right before she spoke. "To draw out Derek. Derek killed Ennis, and now we hurt Kali. He's out for revenge." It sounded like a lie. But why would Cora be lying? Maybe Isaac was just wrong and Cora was worried about her brother. Why else would the alphas take an _English teacher_ for God's sake? Cora continued, saying, "If I was an alpha bent on fighting Derek, I wouldn't draw him to my house. I'd draw him somewhere empty, somewhere abandoned, somewhere I won't have to clean up afterward."

"Unlike the lake we made in here last night?" Isaac asked, trying to get a read on Cora's face when she turned to look at him.

"Yeah, like that. Amateurs."

Isaac couldn't help it. He laughed. Stiles did too. Boyd and Allison both smirked. Lydia nodded and Scott was looking at the map, like he didn't have time for jokes. Shit, maybe they didn't. Maybe Derek had already found Ms. Blake and the alphas. Maybe they were both already dead. Isaac moved around Stiles to stand next to Scott, and asked, "Where should we start?"

"We'll divide the city in half. Two werewolves per team and we'll look for Derek's scent. Isaac, Allison, and I will take this half, Cora, Boyd, and Stiles can take that half. If anyone gets a location on him, we call the others. Lydia, you can do whatever you want."

"Fine." She sniffed. "Then I'm going home. Call me if someone dies."

"Call us if you find any more bodies," Stiles said, and Isaac chuckled at the dirty look it earned him from Lydia.

They broke up, Allison taking half the map and Stiles the other, and Isaac followed Allison and Scott to Allison's car. He couldn't help but walk close to Scott, even though Isaac recognized how stupid he was being. Scott needed to go slow after everything that had happened between him and Allison. He said that, and then the night before, he'd crashed in Isaac's room, arm around Isaac's waist and breath hot on the back of his neck.

Mostly Isaac just wanted to touch Scott again, in whatever way he could. If that meant brushing his arm against Scott's as they walked, so be it. A lot more touching would be cool too, though.

Allison drove to the first location and parked, following when Scott and Isaac got out of the car and started scenting the air. Isaac smelled … something. He'd lived with Derek for almost four months; Derek's scent was fixed in his memory. And this scent wasn't quite it.

"Do you smell that?" he asked Scott, moving toward the smell. He must have gotten ahead of himself, because Allison pulled on his arm and Isaac realized he'd been about to cross the street without noticing the incoming car. He gave Allison a smile and said, "Thanks."

Allison smiled back at him and Isaac's chest clenched. God, she had such a pretty smile. And it was so infectious. Isaac couldn't watch Allison smile and not want to smile right back at her. So he did.

Scott broke the moment by saying, "I do smell it. It smells like..."

"What are you children doing out at this hour?" a voice came from the shadows. Isaac recognized the voice instantly. Peter. So that was the familiar scent Isaac had caught.

Peter stepped into the light of the streetlamp as Scott asked, "What are you doing here?"

Allison pulled what looked like some kind of weapon out of her jacket pocket and stood shoulder-to-arm with Isaac, her heart pounding like crazy. Another human girl might have hid behind Isaac when faced with someone she obviously feared, but Allison stood equal with Isaac. Of course, Scott was standing between both of them and Peter, facing Peter like he would protect both Allison and Isaac with every breath in his body.

Isaac tried not to let it show how much it affected him to think that maybe someone cared enough about Isaac to protect him from the evils of the world. Isaac's mom and pop certainly wouldn't have done that. His father wouldn't have either. Hadn't. But here was Scott, stepping up between Isaac and danger.

Of course, just like Allison with her weapon (was that a taser?), Isaac could take care of himself. Except for the time when he needed that one young woman to rescue him. He wondered if he'd ever see her again.

"I got a text asking to meet me here," Peter said, walking casually forward.

"From Derek?" Scott asked, moving to one side half a step, like he didn't want to move any closer to Peter than he had to, but he didn't want to move away and appear weak.

Shaking his head, Peter said, "From Cora. She thinks I might be able to help."

Isaac sighed, but he knew Cora was right. Allison might be a great hunter, and he and Scott were werewolves, but that didn't mean anything about how easily they might be able to hunt down Derek.

"Do you know where the alphas took Ms. Blake?" Scott asked, his voice rough and demanding. Isaac shivered. God, he wanted that voice directed at him.

"I could hazard a guess."

"We don't have the time." Allison put a hand on Isaac's wrist. "We already have a list of places to look."

"Or..." Peter said, pulling out his phone, calling up something on it, and turning it so they could all see. "Derek _also_ texted me. Twenty minutes ago, asking for my help."

"Why couldn't you have just said that in the first place?" Isaac stepped closer to Peter and grabbed the phone to look at the text himself, even though it meant leaving Allison and her grip on his arm behind. "And why would Derek ask you for help, but not the rest of us?"

Peter smiled and said, "Probably because he doesn't care whether or not I survive this fight."

The implication was that Derek did care about Isaac and Scott and the rest of them. Derek sure had awful ways of showing it if that were the case.

This time it was Scott who put a hand on Isaac's shoulder when he gave the phone back to Peter and rejoined Scott and Allison. Scott asked, "So, where is he?"

"Not far," Peter replied, turning to one side and pointing. "I can show you."

Isaac started to follow, but Scott's grip on Isaac's shoulder got stronger, holding him back. Scott turned to Allison and said, "Call Stiles. Tell them to come meet us." Then Scott turned to meet Isaac's eyes (Isaac wondered if his heart would ever stop skipping a beat when Scott looked at him) and nodded, squeezing Isaac's shoulder once more before letting go. Unable to take the loss, Isaac grabbed Scott's hand, relieved when after a short look, Scott let him keep it. "Let's go."

~*~

Derek had been circling the building where the alphas were holding Jen for close to half an hour. He couldn't scent the alphas and they were good at moving nearly silently, but he managed to avoid being noticed long enough for Peter to show up. And for him to bring the others, even though Derek had explicitly told him not to. Damn it. Someone was going to die and Derek really wasn't counting on Stiles to pull another trick out of his proverbial hat this time. But if they volunteered to help rescue Jen, maybe Derek could let them? He knew there was no way in hell he was getting her back on his own. Derek just didn't know what difference a pack full of betas could make when each of these alphas had killed their entire packs single-handedly. 

Derek met the group a few blocks away from the actual building, stepping out of the shadows in front of Stiles. The kid jumped, which was mostly why Derek did it. The werewolves had already all heard his heartbeat and his breath, and Allison Argent probably would have tried to stab him and gotten herself bitten as a result. "Jesus, Derek!" Stiles hissed, punching Derek in the arm and then shaking out his hand with a wince. "Did you find her?"

Derek pointed out the building. "I can hear her voice. She's still alive."

Cora looked up at the sky and then back down, meeting Derek's eyes. "They're waiting for moon rise."

"To do what?" Derek asked. "Make their own sacrifice? So they can beat the Darach?"

Derek noticed the way Cora's heartbeat flickered as she said, "I don't know what they're waiting for, Derek. She's _your_ girlfriend!"

Derek had no idea why Cora was so angry with him, but now wasn't the time to ask. Instead, he turned to Peter. "Any bright ideas about how to go about this?"

"I'm assuming letting her die isn't an option?" Peter asked with a slow smirk. 

Derek frowned at him. "Out of the question."

"Uh, I have an idea," Scott said, moving to stand between Derek and Peter, with his back to Peter. Derek smirked at the frown Scott's snub made Peter give and Derek wondered if Scott had done it on purpose. Turning your back to a werewolf generally either meant you trusted them, or you didn't see them as a threat. No one trusted Peter. "Why don't we create a distraction? There are enough of us that we can scatter, split up the alphas, and get Derek close enough to save Ms. Blake."

Derek frowned. It was actually a pretty good idea. Except, "Alphas are fast. How are any of you going to outrun them?"

This time it was Allison who spoke up. "We don't necessarily need to outrun them for terribly long. If we get to a populated place, like a restaurant or something, they won't be able to attack without calling far too much attention to themselves."

Peter tilted his head. "It _could_ work. It could also get most of you killed for the sake of one unimportant school teacher."

How _dare_ Peter call Jen unimportant? Derek took a few steps in Peter's direction, meaning to beat his face in, but Scott stopped him. " _Everyone's_ important, especially innocent people like Ms. Blake. We can't let them hurt her!"

Peter rolled his eyes, but Derek...Derek agreed with Scott. And it wasn't just because he had feelings for Jen. All his life, Derek had been brought up to believe that life, especially human life, was sacred. And it was Derek's responsibility, as someone with the strength to do something about it, to make sure supernatural things weren't allowed to take human lives. Keeping that faith and protecting the innocent was one of the reasons the hunters let Derek's people keep existing. Without that pact between them, it was only a matter of time before all hell broke loose.

The thought of becoming the monster the hunters wanted him to be only occurred to Derek once since the Argents broke the code and killed his family. Laura caught him and talked him down before he could do anything.

"If anyone here isn't willing to risk their life for Jennifer Blake's, you should go," Derek said. He looked around at each of them in turn, and the only one who started to move was Peter. Derek glared at him, "Not you. You're staying."

Remarkably, Peter didn't fight Derek on the issue. He simply shrugged and stepped back into place.

Derek turned to Allison. "I'll take Peter with me, have everyone else break into small groups and have them run in opposite directions. Give them routes to the nearest crowds, and back up routes if they get cut off. No one gets hurt. Peter and I will go in the back and get Ms. Blake out once you've caused the distraction."

Allison nodded and started to give orders as Derek walked away. "Scott and Isaac, you're with me again, Stiles, how fast can you run?"

"Well, I've had a lot of practice lately, but..."

Peter tsked, drawing Derek's attention. "Oh, Derek. You know you're not one to go for the damsel in distress. What could you _possibly_ see in this woman?"

"What did you see in Jan?" Derek asked, wondering for the hundredth time if he was doing the right thing by holding off on telling Peter that Jan and their son were still alive. 

Peter's brows drew down and Derek caught a hint of grief from him. It was the first time Derek had felt any emotions from Peter since he came back to life, and Derek didn't know how to feel about it. On the one hand, it meant that Peter was accepting a place in Derek's pack. But on the other hand, it meant that if Deucalion was able to change Derek's mind about joining them, Peter was on the list of people who had to die. Cora wasn't even technically in Derek's pack yet. He wasn't sure where she belonged, because she didn't answer most of the questions Derek put to her, but she wasn't Derek's. Not yet. The only ones Derek had left were Boyd and a tenuous bond with Isaac that Derek could feel weakening the closer and closer Isaac and Scott became. 

"Strength and love," Peter answered eventually. "Strength and love. That's what I saw in Jan. That's what I saw in Luke. I-" Peter shook his head. "It doesn't matter now. They're gone and I'm still here." Peter chuckled almost sadly, but Derek couldn't feel emotions from him anymore. Peter had cut them off.

Derek almost told Peter that Jan was still alive, but he bit his tongue instead. There was no telling how Peter would react and right now, Jennifer Blake was the person in mortal danger. Instead, he told Peter, "You know, my eyes turned blue. A couple of years after the fire."

"I'd noticed." Peter gave Derek the sort of grin a proud father might give his son. "How did it happen?"

"Fight with a pack out east." Derek leaned against a building and quickly looked around the corner to be sure the coast was clear. "I almost bled out. Laura fed me her power until my heart started beating again."

"Talia taught her how to do that, huh?" Peter looked away quickly and this time Derek felt _jealousy_ from him. He'd always suspected Peter had felt jealous of his older sister, but Derek had never had confirmation of it before. "You see the other side?"

Derek shook his head. He'd been so injured that his heart stopped four times, including the week before, and he'd never seen anything but darkness. "You died for a couple months. Did you see it?"

Peter scoffed. "No. Not that I can _remember_."

That was the thing, wasn’t it? Even if Derek’s eyes meant that he’d died and been called back from the afterlife, he couldn’t remember it. He couldn’t remember if he’d seen his parents and cousins and grandmother while he’d been there, or if it had been such a short trip that he hadn’t had time to see them. But none of the wolves who had blue eyes had _ever_ been able to tell the others what they’d seen of the afterlife. It made Derek suspect that such a place didn’t exist.

Maybe werewolves didn’t get an afterlife. Maybe their souls stayed with their bones until someone called them back to life.

Before long, an explosion from the other side of the building made the ground under Derek’s feet shudder. “That must be the signal,” he told Peter as he checked to make sure the coast was clear. The twins were there, but quickly running toward the source of the blast, so Derek waited for a few seconds more before running toward the building. He heard Peter’s footsteps behind him, so Derek didn’t bother looking back to make sure his uncle would follow.

In the building, Derek heard Jen’s muffled cry and Deucalion shouting orders, and he redoubled his speed. As he got closer, he heard two heartbeats still in the building – one low and quick, but steady, the other smaller, higher pitched, and racing. Jen was still alive. It was just her and Deucalion left in the building, and if she was still alive, that meant Derek could still save her.

Derek knew he couldn’t disguise his footsteps from Deucalion’s ears, so he ran as fast and as hard as he could to give the alpha less time to prepare himself for Derek’s attack. Peter fell behind, but that didn’t matter. Peter was along just to usher Jen to safety. Derek didn’t like trusting Peter with someone so important to him, but at this point, Peter was just about all he had left.

When Derek got there, Deucalion had Jen on her side, pinned to the floor. Her shirt was pushed up to expose the soft flesh of her waist. Derek met her eyes and in that brief fraction of a second, she looked terrified. It broke Derek’s heart. 

“You’re too late,” Deucalion gloated, just as his teeth elongated. Derek was halfway across the room to them before Deucalion was able to sink his teeth into Jen’s flesh, and it really was too late. Deucalion had given her the bite. 

Derek had just enough time to slow down, because tackling a werewolf who had his jaws in your girlfriend’s side was a good way to kill said girlfriend, before a shockwave blasted through the room. Derek fell back onto his ass, Deucalion flew back and hit the wall behind him, and Jennifer’s pained sob gave way into a faint.

Knowing he couldn’t let this opportunity pass him by, Derek scrambled to his feet, pulling off his shirt as he went. He pressed the cloth into the jagged, ripped wounds that Deucalion’s teeth had left in Jen’s skin. As soon as he was sure he had good coverage of the wound, he used his other arm to scoop Jen up. He passed Peter, who looked stunned, at the door and yelled at him, “C’mon!”

“What the hell happened?” Peter asked, following close on Derek’s heels and slamming a door shut behind them.

“He bit her,” Derek growled, trying not to jostle Jen too much as he hurried down a set of stairs. “He bit her and then there was just this-this _shockwave_.”

“Yeah, I felt that,” Peter said, running ahead to pull open the door to the outside. He had a hand to the back of his head like he’d injured it.

The sound of running footsteps caught Derek’s attention and as soon as he saw Kali round the corner, Derek passed Jen to Peter. “Go! Get her somewhere safe!”

Peter did as he was asked and Derek turned to meet Kali, who cried, “What did you do to him?”

Derek should have told Kali the truth, but he was just so fucking angry that the alphas would kidnap Jen again, that he growled, “The same thing I’m gonna do to you!”

The words had their intended effect and Kali rushed at Derek with a scream. Derek caught her first blow, and the second, but the third landed on his ribcage, luckily without the sharp rake of claws Derek knew her capable of. Reeling, Derek dodged the next rounding and then saw Kali slightly off balance as she landed. He lashed out while he could, catching Kali across the jaw with the claws of his right hand. She screamed again.

Then two things happened at once. One of the twins called from inside the building, “Kali!” and Scott and Isaac showed up on a motorcycle, Allison close behind them on another. One of Allison’s arrows dug into Kali’s thigh.

Kali tore Allison's arrow out of her leg and threw it at Derek, who barely managed to dodge it. Then Kali took off into the building and Stiles pulled up in his Jeep with Boyd and Cora. Relatively uninjured, Derek looked around to make sure everyone was alright, and then took off after Peter and Jen.

He followed the scent of blood just a few blocks before he found them. Jen was still unconscious, but her heart sounded strong and Peter looked more than a little done being nursemaid. "I'll take her."

"Take her where?" Peter asked as he handed Jen over, making sure Derek had the compress pressed tightly before he let go. "You can't take her to the hospital. What if she turns?"

"What if she doesn't?" Derek asked in turn, walking back toward the sound of Stiles' Jeep idling two blocks away.

~*~

While Peter slinked back to wherever he'd come from, Cora and Boyd went off somewhere together, and Allison returned the motorcycles she'd stolen from outside a bar, Scott rode with Isaac and Stiles, taking Derek and Ms. Blake to the hospital. Scott watched Stiles look into the rearview much more often than he actually needed to. Scott tried to figure out whether Stiles was more interested in whether or not Ms. Blake survived the bite, or the fact that Derek was shirtless. Knowing Stiles, it was probably both.

Trying to distract Stiles so maybe he would keep his eyes on the road, Scott asked, "You think I should call Mom ahead, tell her we're coming?"

"Is she even working tonight?" Stiles asked, making a right on Kennedy, which would take them to Beacon Hills Memorial within a few minutes. 

"It's Tuesday," Scott said, looking to Isaac in the back seat, who sort of had Ms. Blake's legs all over his lap. "Isn't it?"

"Yeah," Isaac said. "Tuesday. I was supposed to give a presentation in French."

"Well, I was supposed to hand in my English essay, but..." Stiles said, waving his hand back at Ms. Blake's unconscious body.

"I finished it last week," Scott said absently, looking back at Ms. Blake's face, her head cradled in Derek's lap. "I hope she gets a chance to read it."

Scott watched as Derek brushed a hand through Ms. Blake’s hair, looking like he was about to cry. It made Scott’s heart hurt, and he didn’t even like Derek that much. Scott thought of him more as a sometimes ally that he had to deal with from time to time, not as a friend. But it was obvious how much he cared about Ms. Blake and how scared he was that something bad was happening to her.

It reminded Scott of the way his Mom and Dad treated his Mima while she was dying. Derek had that same look on his face and just like with his parents, all Scott wanted to do was make that pained expression go away. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and called his mom.

It took her a few rings before she answered, but she did answer. “What is it, honey? I’m at work.”

“I know, Mom. We’re coming to you. We need- someone’s hurt.”

“Oh god,” Mom groaned, and even over the phone Scott could hear the way her heartbeat sped up. “It’s not your brother, is it?”

“No, Mom. Stiles is fine. It’s Ms. Blake. My English teacher? She’s been bit.”

“Derek?” she asked in that no-nonsense tone that Stiles could never lie in the face of.

“No, it was Deucalion,” Scott told her. “Derek’s coming in with us. Is there...I mean, can we avoid all the questions about how she got hurt?”

Mom heaved a big sigh and her heartbeat slowed down. “Come in through the parking garage. I’ll meet you there. But if I can’t treat her myself, we’re bringing her up to the doctors in the ER.”

“Thanks, Mom,” Scott said with a relieved smile in Stiles’ direction.

Then Mom asked, “Wheelchair or stretcher?”

It took Scott a moment to understand that she was asking about Ms. Blake’s condition, and when he realized, he turned to look back at Ms. Blake. She didn’t show any signs of waking up, and Derek’s hands were covered in the blood still seeping from her wound. “Stretcher. And she could probably use some blood.”

“Jesus, Scott,” Mom said, sighing again. “Alright. I can probably manage to ‘drop’ a pint of O-neg on the ground. If I lose my job over this, I swear to god...”

“I know, Mama.” Scott felt guilty asking this of his mother, but Dr. Deaton was still in the hospital himself and he didn’t know who else to turn to. “Thanks. We’ll see you in a few minutes.”

At the hospital, Mom sent Isaac and Stiles to go cause a distraction while she wheeled Ms. Blake into an empty room in the long-term care wing. She put Ms. Blake on an IV with extra blood and saline, gave her some pain medication, and treated her wound. The whole time, Derek sat beside the bed, holding Ms. Blake’s hand and watching Mom work.

After it was done, Mom pulled Scott out into the hallway. “I’ve done all I can, but it’s not like I’m an expert in werewolf bites. Do you know what’s going to happen to her?”

“If it takes,” Scott said, rubbing one hand over his side, “she’ll heal. She’ll be like me.”

“And if it doesn’t?”

“She could die.” Scott pulled his mother into a hug. “Thanks, Mom. You were awesome.”

Mom squeezed Scott back and gave him a kiss on the cheek as they parted. She looked around him, back into the room. “He really cares a lot about her, doesn’t he?”

“Yeah, I guess so,” Scott replied, watching Derek hold Ms. Blake’s hand, his forehead resting on where his and hers intertwined.

Then Mom shoved him toward the hallway. “Get your brother out of here and go home. Visiting hours are over.”

Nodding back toward the room, Scott asked, “You’ll call me if anything changes?”

“I’ll call,” she agreed, shooing him along. “I promise. Now scoot.”

Scott gave his mother one last smile before heading to where he could hear Stiles and Isaac arguing loudly about how Isaac obviously didn’t love Stiles anymore. Scott chuckled to himself. The occupants of the hospital sure were getting a show. It sounded like Isaac was doing a good job playing along, which made Scott almost proud on his behalf.

~*~

After school the next day, Stiles went to the hospital to go check on Ms. Blake. Derek wasn’t there anymore, but Cora was, so Stiles sat down next to her. “You make Derek go home?”

“I threatened him with my teeth,” she said, giving Stiles a look out of the corner of her eye, and a smirk. “Told him he could come back after he didn’t stink so bad.”

“Well, it’s good to know you’re looking out for the noses of everyone in this hospital.” Stiles nodded at Ms. Blake. “She doing okay?”

“The bite’s not healing.” Cora sat back in her chair and crossed her arms over her chest, giving sort of a frowning pout. It reminded Stiles of Derek so much that he couldn’t help but chuckle. Cora turned her frown at him. “What?”

“Nothing,” he said, but Cora kept staring at him, so Stiles felt the need to elaborate. “I’ve only met a few Hales, so my observation may be biased, but you certainly seem to fit the mold.”

Cora rolled her eyes and turned her attention back to Ms. Blake, like she was counting the number of times the teacher breathed.

Studying Cora for a moment, Stiles was overcome with a sudden sense of curiosity. “How old are you?”

“Seventeen,” she replied. “Why?”

“Why aren’t you in school?”

Scoffing, Cora replied, “I have better ways to spend my time these days. Like making sure my big brother doesn’t get himself killed.”

“Are you really going to have much say in the matter?” Stiles asked, watching Cora’s face as it fell. “I mean, there’s a whole pack of alphas out to either recruit Derek or kill him, and I can’t tell which they want at any given moment.”

Turning to face Stiles head-on, Cora asked, “Do you like pizza?”

“What?” Stiles furrowed his brow and gaped. “Where did that even come from?”

“It came from me wanting to know whether or not you like pizza,” Cora said, leaning closer to Stiles. A slow smile spread across her face and Stiles had no idea whether he should be afraid or turned on, but whichever his body was going for, it was insanely sudden and made him light headed.

“I-I like pizza. It’s good. I mean, who doesn’t like pizza, you know?”

“As soon as Derek gets back, you, Boyd, and I are going to go eat pizza,” Cora said and Stiles felt like he had no recourse to argue with her. “It’s a date.”

“Like, a date-date?” Stiles asked, his voice cracking embarrassingly. “Are you sure about that? Because I know me. I’ve known me all my life. I’m not the kind of guy people want to take on dates. Boyd doesn’t even like me.”

"Boyd likes you," Cora insisted, leaning even closer. Wow, she was like, _really_ close. "I guess that kinda happens when you save a guy's life. When you saved _my guy's_ life."

"Oh my god, get a room," groaned someone and Stiles realized it was Ms. Blake.

"You woke up!" Stiles cried, standing up out of his chair to get closer to Ms. Blake. She squinted at Stiles and brought a hand up toward her head. Stiles grinned over at Cora, who looked so relieved she might pass out at the shock of it.

"Ugh. What happened?"

"Deucalion bit you," Cora said, her phone in her hand, thumbs flying away as she texted someone, probably Derek.

"He-he bit me." Ms. Blake repeated, one hand going to the side Mima had stitched together. "That bastard bit me!"

Chuckling, Stiles said, "It's okay. You woke up, so that means you're going to be okay!" He turned to Cora. "Right?"

Cora raised one eyebrow and shrugged. Oh, she was such a Hale. "What does that even mean? She survived."

"So far," Cora replied, her eyes back on her phone.

Stiles looked over at Ms. Blake, who looked considerably more concerned than she had a few seconds ago. Pointing over his shoulder, Stiles said, "Uh, I'll go get Mima. She'll want to know you're awake."

"Hurry," Ms. Blake said, wincing as she shifted up the bed. "I feel like I could sleep for a million years."

Stiles nodded, gave Cora one last look, and then left. On the way up to the ER, Stiles pinched himself. Cora couldn't have been serious when she asked him out, right? Not to mention the fact that no one was ever interested in Stiles, there were a million things going on right now between the Darach sacrificing everyone and the alpha pack trying to recruit Derek to their little cult. Who had time to do anything normal, like eat or sleep or poop? How was Stiles supposed to go on a _date_

"Mima!" Stiles called when he saw her walking out of one of the rooms. "Our atient-pay woke up-yay."

"Son of mine, _everyone_ knows pig Latin. You're not exactly being stealthy." Mima grinned and patted Stiles on the cheek.

"Well..." Stiles huffed. "Would you just come look?"

"Let me just tell Noreen I'm on my break."

On the elevator up to the long-term care wing, Stiles sighed. "Mima, can I ask you something?"

"Sure, sweetie," she said, wrapping her arm around Stiles' waist and leaning her head against his shoulder.

Stiles set his cheek against Mima's hair. "What are first dates like? Are they horribly awkward? They're awful, aren't they? I shouldn't even go."

Gasping, Mima grinned at Stiles, "Somebody wants to go on a date with you? That's so exciting! Who is it?"

"Cora Hale." Stiles admitted, cringing at the thought. Like, he liked Cora – a lot, actually; she had a great sense of humor – but he couldn't believe someone who could do what she could do would ever want to date a weirdo like him. "Well, Cora and Boyd, actually, but Cora's the one doing the asking."

"I don't know how I feel about dating werewolves, but since your brother _is_ one, I should just let go of that dream, shouldn't I?" Mima smiled at Stiles and ruffled his hair a little. "You should go. You boys need a little fun."

Stiles wanted to ask if a sense of preservation for the fun parts of life was the reason Mima hadn't busted Scott for spending the night in the guest room with Isaac. Alas, Stiles was a more loyal brother than he was a son. Besides, ratting Scott out in this instance would gain Stiles nothing except maybe a laugh at Scott's misfortune. And then what would happen when Stiles (if Stiles ever) needed Scott to have his back with their parents?

They arrived at Ms. Blake's room and Mima went to work checking everything. Stiles averted his eyes when Mima pulled back the dressing over Ms. Blake's wound, but curiosity got the better of him and he had to look. The cut-up flesh was covered in jagged-looking black stitches that made Stiles retch at the site. "Oh, god! Is it supposed to look like that?"

Derek showed up in the doorway then, his hair wet and his shirt sticking to his chest like he hadn't bothered toweling off before running over. "Hey," he said, focused on Ms. Blake like she was the only one in the room. He went over to her and took her hand before peeking over at her wound. "It's not healing."

"It is, actually," Mima countered, putting the dressing back in place. "Some of the skin is starting to knit back together. It's not werewolf quick, as I understand it." Mima looked over at Stiles. "But it's healing faster than normal."

Stiles looked at both werewolves and at Ms. Blake, but all of them seemed just as stumped as Stiles. Well, Ms. Blake looked like she was going to fall asleep again more than she looked confused. "What does that mean?"

Mima replace Ms. Blake's bandage and stripped off her gloves, shaking her head. "I don't know. I've never treated a werewolf bite before."

Derek gave Ms. Blake a little smile and said, "It's fine. It's going to be fine." But something in the look Derek gave Cora told Stiles that he was lying.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> During a few weeks of relative peace, Allison goes to Scott's to "study," Stiles has his date with Boyd and Cora, and Lydia gets déjà vu.

Sitting in his chair next to Jen's bed, Derek kept his head down, resting next to where he held her hand. He kept his eyes closed (he was having trouble keeping them open, anyway), but he focused on listening as hard as he could. It was difficult in a building as crowded with people as a hospital, but it helped that Scott's mom had stashed them in a less-busy wing. The heartbeats of most of the patients didn't move around much, and there were only a few doctors and nurses walking up and down the wing. Every time someone came near the door to Jen's room, Derek lifted his head and readied his muscles. He knew there was an attack coming. Derek had pulled Ennis to his death, and something about biting Jen had injured Deucalion. Kali and the rest of the alpha pack were sure to show up soon.

Why weren't they coming for him?

Footsteps approached the room and Derek willed his eyes open. He took a quick breath, readying himself for the attack, but Cora came into the room instead of Kali or the twins. Derek let his breath out slowly and relaxed back in his chair.

Cora didn't say anything, but she moved another chair closer to Derek's and sat down in it. After a minute, she said softly, "You can go home and sleep. I'll watch her."

It wasn't the first time Cora had offered to stand guard for him, but it was the first time Derek was actually considering taking her up on the offer. Unless, maybe the past 48 hours of silence from the alpha pack had been them waiting to separate Derek from Jen. "No. I'm staying."

Cora huffed and the upholstery of her chair squeaked as she shifted in it. "You're an idiot. Go get some sleep, Derek. Stop killing yourself over a stranger."

Derek turned to glare at Cora. "I know more about Jen than I do about _you_."

"I'm your sister, Derek," Cora insisted, moving closer to him and reaching out toward Derek's arm, but not quite touching him. "You used to read me stories at night after Mom turned the lights out. Remember? You had that little toy that lit up just enough that we could see the pages, but Dinah couldn't?"

"She always got so mad," Derek whispered, remembering the look on their human cousin's face whenever she couldn't do something he and Cora had no problem doing. The fatigue made it difficult to keep his eyes from tearing up at the thought. Before he could say anything more, an alarm next to Jen's bed started buzzing. Derek stood up quickly and looked Jen over. Her heart was beating more erratically and her breaths grew more shallow and closer together. He turned to Cora and cried, "Go get Mrs. Stilinski!"

Cora nodded gravely and took off, and as soon as she was gone, Derek held Jen's hand tighter and leaned down so his forehead was next to hers. Her skin felt so cold. Derek shivered and whispered, "Wake up. Please wake up. I know you don't know me very well, but you're the first good thing in my life in a very long time. You can't die."

Jen didn't move. The beeping got worse.

Swift footfalls clattered down the hallway and Melissa and Cora rushed into the room. Melissa frowned at the beeping display and turned off the alarm before quickly taking Jen's vitals. After a moment, she looked up at Derek. "This isn't good. Her temperature is way down. She's in shock."

"What do we do?" Derek asked, holding out his hands. He could try again to help heal her, but his first attempt had knocked him out cold, so he really didn't think he'd have any better luck now that she was dying. "She's dying, isn't she?"

"Not on my watch," Melissa said, taking the leads from the machine off Jen's chest and grabbing the hanging bag of saline. Making eye contact with Derek, she ordered, "Pick her up. We're bringing her to the ER. You found her like this, alright? You have no idea how she got this way, I put in the line as soon as you came in the door."

Derek nodded in acknowledgement. He knew Melissa had been doing them a huge favor, keeping the authorities in the dark when it came to the how of Jen's condition. Now that they needed a doctor, though, all eyes were going to be on him.

It was okay. Derek could take it. He had before, after all. He deserved to be thought of as a criminal, a murderer. 

They went up the stairs rather than the elevator, Cora scouting their way. Ten minutes later, Jen had five doctors and a steadier pulse. No one had noticed Derek yet, so he slid into the background, making himself as small and unnoticeable as he could. 

Cora joined him and they watched the doctors put Jennifer Blake back together. 

~*~

"It's weird, though, isn't it?" Allison asked before shifting to find a more comfortable position on the wooden bench Lydia had insisted they sit in. Allison took another lick from her ice cream cone (rocky road flavored, of course). "It's been almost a week and we haven't heard anything from the alpha pack. No one else has shown up dead. It's- I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop."

"I know what you mean," Lydia replied, licking her rainbow sherbet off a spoon. "There was no big reveal, we have no idea why the Darach was sacrificing people, Derek's still alive. It can't be over, can it?"

Smirking, Allison asked, "Did you just insinuate that you didn't expect Derek to survive?"

"A bunch of scary alphas against a guy who was surprised when little old me blew wolfsbane in his face? Yeah, I had long odds on him surviving. You on the other hand," Lydia leaned forward and tucked a strand of Allison's hair behind her ear. "You I see living to a ripe old age, Xena."

Allison laughed. "I used to watch that show with-" She sighed. "Well, with my mom, actually. She loved tearing it to pieces by pointing out all the inaccuracies, but I could tell it was still her favorite show."

"You know," Lydia tilted her head to the side, "I don't think I've actually seen an episode."

"If things stay boring like this, we'll have to change that."

Raising an eyebrow, Lydia said, "You think the past week has been _boring_? Oh god, you actually miss it, don't you? You miss the killings every day and the fear and... You're an adrenaline junkie, my friend."

Allison frowned as she thought about it. There _had_ been something missing lately, and it made Allison restless. She'd thought it had just been anticipation of what was sure to come, but maybe Allison _did_ miss the danger. A little bit. "I don't know if I'd go as far as to call myself a _junkie_ , but..."

Lydia rolled her eyes. She opened her mouth, but the sound of a motorcycle pulling up to where they were sitting interrupted her. The motorcycle's rider pulled off his helmet and Allison tensed up when she saw it was one of the alpha twins. Something was finally happening and Allison had ice cream dripping down her hand. She stood up quickly, ready to defend herself and Lydia.

Lydia stood up too, but she looked anything but scared when Allison looked over at her. In fact, Lydia smiled brightly and took another spoon of her ice cream as she sauntered over toward the twin. Allison guessed that this one was Aiden, because of the way Lydia was treating him, but she had to admit that she still had trouble telling them apart.

"Hi," Lydia said with a coy smile and Allison couldn't stop herself from scoffing. Lydia turned back to narrow her eyes at Allison for a fraction of a second before turning back to Aiden with that same bright smile.

"Hey," Aiden said, reaching behind him for the helmet strapped to the back of his bike. "You ready to go?"

"I am," Lydia agreed, tossing the remains of her ice cream in the trashcan next to the bench she and Allison had been sitting in. Meeting Allison's eyes, she said, "I'll see you later, sweetie. Don't get into trouble without me!"

Before Allison could protest, Lydia and Aiden drove off. Allison took as big a bite of her ice cream as she could and suffered a brain freeze headache as she got rid of the rest. Licking her hand clean, she used the other to text Lydia.

_I hope you know what the hell you're doing._

After Lydia abandoned her, Allison went to go meet Scott and Isaac after cross-country practice, to “study.” When Allison invited herself over to Scott’s house to study, it had been with the intention to test out her feelings about both of them and see if she felt comfortable finally letting herself have the relationship she wanted. The gravity of the situation made Allison pause at the Stilinski front door, her hand held up to knock, but not quite making contact.

She knew that it was just fear stopping her from knocking – fear of getting in between Scott and Isaac, and ruining their relationship, fear of finding something good only to have it taken away when one or both of them got killed. But Lydia was right. Allison was bored with things the way they were. She missed facing off against the things that scared her. So what was a date compared to fighting werewolves and winning?

Allison took a deep breath and knocked. 

Stiles answered the door. “Oh, hey Allison. What’s up?”

“I’m here to study,” she said, drawing attention to her school bag by hiking it further up on her shoulder.

“Oh, cool,” Stiles said, moving aside so she could enter the house. “I’m so behind in all my classes. What did you want to start with?”

“Actually,” she said, eyeing the staircase to the second floor, where Scott’s bedroom was. “I’m here to study with Scott. And Isaac.”

After a second staring at her blankly, Stiles huffed and rubbed his face with his hand. “Oh my god. Okay. I’m getting my things, I’m leaving the house, I’ll be at the library, or Derek’s and Cora’s place or something. Jesus.”

Stiles stomped up the stairs, shouting, “Scott! You have a visitor!”

Allison waited until Isaac appeared at the landing, giving her a breathless, “Hey,” before she followed Stiles up the stairs.

“Hey,” Allison replied, giving Isaac a smile and reaching out to grip his hand. He beamed at her when she laced their fingers together and Allison felt like her heart might beat right out of her chest.

Isaac brought her down the hall, past Scott’s room, to a room she’d never been in before. It must have been the guest room, because the décor was more Mrs. Stilinski than teenage boy. Though, it did look like Isaac had taken over the desk with his school things. Scott was already there, laying on Isaac’s bed and reading what looked like the novel Ms. Blake had assigned them before she got bit and had to be on sick leave. They’d had a substitute all week, and the man didn’t know literature from a hole in the ground, in Allison’s opinion. She hoped for the hundredth time that week that Ms. Blake would get better soon. 

“Look who’s here,” Isaac said, bringing up his and Allison’s clasped hands like he was showing off to Scott.

A bright smile spread over Scott’s face as he set down his book and sat up, eyes moving back and forth between Allison, Isaac, and their clasped hands. “Allison! Is this...?”

“I think so,” she replied with a grin. “I mean, if you two still want...”

“It’s all I think about,” Isaac said, getting in front of Allison and putting his free hand on her cheek. Scott approached from behind Isaac and Allison couldn’t wait any longer. She couldn’t look at that expression on Isaac’s face, on the sheer depth of feeling in his eyes, and not act on it.

She leaned forward and up on her toes and kissed Isaac, pressing her lips against his as firmly as she could without being rough. Isaac breathed in sharply through his nose and Allison heard Scott’s intake of breath as well. As Allison wrapped her free arm around Isaac’s neck, pulling him down so she didn’t have to strain to keep kissing him, she felt Scott’s hand run from her neck down to the small of her back. “Allison,” he groaned softly in her ear.

Allison shivered. She licked the seam of Isaac’s lips and sucked in her own gasp when his tongue met hers, wet and sweet. Scott’s lips pressed gently against her jaw and Allison hated to stop kissing Isaac, but it had been so long since she’d kissed Scott that she’d barely made the decision before she’d already turned to meet his lips.

“Fuck,” Isaac whispered, one of his hand still laced with Allison’s and his other in Scott’s short hair. “You two look so...”

Scott groaned against Allison’s lips and pulled her closer against him, his erection hard against her hip. Allison had come to Scott’s house knowing that things between the three of them would probably get romantic, but now faced with the clear evidence of Scott’s desire for this, for her and what she could give his relationship with Isaac, she was struck with a frantic desire primarily for Scott, but also for Isaac. She deepened her kiss with Scott and raked the nails of her free hand lightly down his back, just like she remembered he liked. Scott shuddered against her.

Scott broke the kiss and turned to Isaac, pulling him in for another kiss. Allison watched the way they kissed hungrily, almost violently, and she found herself panting at the sight. “Have you two...?” she started to ask before realizing she wasn’t sure what she wanted to know.

"Not yet," Scott assured her, slipping his hand under the hem of Allison's shirt.

"We were waiting for you." Isaac kissed Scott's neck, his hand squeezing Allison's.

Struggling to get Scott's shirt off, Allison had just disentangled her hand from Isaac's to help with the process when three slow knocks rapped on the door.

"Go away, Stiles," Scott called, but Stiles didn't answer. Instead, whoever was on the other side gave the same three slow knocks.

Allison drew away from both boys and wrapped her arms around herself, shivering. Something wasn't right. Scott went to go open the door and Allison reached out for him, wanting to stop him. She was too late, though, and Scott opened the door to reveal Derek. Allison watched as Derek stood there, not making eye contact with any of them.

"Derek?" Isaac asked, moving forward to stand next to Scott. "Is everything okay?"

Shaking his head, Derek finally looked up at Scott. "No. There's something … wrong."

"What?" Scott asked, moving closer to Derek, who flinched back when Scott reached out to touch him. "What's wrong?"

Finally meeting Scott's eyes, Derek said, "Jennifer isn't turning. But she's not dying, either."

Allison breathed in relief that nothing new had come up, and she watched Scott's posture relax as well. Isaac stepped a little closer to Derek and asked, "Well, that's a good thing, isn't it?"

"It's a trap," Derek insisted. "I have to figure out how to protect her. Deucalion is doing something to her. He will come back and …" Shaking his head again, Derek looked at first Scott and then past him, right at Allison. A thrill shivered up the back of Allison's throat. She understood now that Derek wasn't as evil as she'd once thought, but it was still difficult to be in the same room as him. Looking back to Isaac, Derek said, "Come with me. We're going to find Deucalion while he's still weak."

"We've _been_ looking for him," Isaac protested, but he followed Derek anyway.

Scott moved forward as well, before stopping and turning to Allison. "We'll _study_ again tomorrow, okay?"

Allison nodded. "I'll come with you." She took a step forward, intent on spending more time with Scott and Isaac, as well as keeping a close eye on Derek. The way he was acting could have been explained by Ms. Blake's reaction to Deucalion's bite, but it unnerved her all the same. Before Allison could take more than one step, Scott stepped forward to meet her.

"Maybe it should just be me and Isaac," Scott said and he must have seen something on Allison's face, because he took a quick breath and quickly added, "just because I'm sure we won't find anything. You have better ways to spend your time than this."

"Not really," Allison insisted. Looking into Scott's eyes, she couldn't help herself from wanting to touch him, so she readjusted some of his hair. "Do you not want me to come?"

"No, I want you to," Scott said, looking down and away, but with a small smile making his dimple more apparent. "I _really_ want you to come."

Understanding what he was getting at, Allison laughed and smacked Scott lightly on the shoulder. "Well, I will, then. Come on, I've got a kit of supplies in my trunk for just such an occasion."

Scott nodded and let Allison leave the room ahead of him. She followed Derek and Isaac down the stairs and resigned herself to a night of wandering around Beacon Hills looking for a pack of alphas in what amounted to a haystack. Not only was there not going to be any sex, but Allison wasn't going to get any homework done, either. Both were good excuses to pout for the rest of the evening, despite getting to spend it with her boys.

~*~

Stiles readjusted his hair for the millionth time in front of his mirror and noticed the way his dad was watching from the doorway. "Oh my god, go away. It's just a date." Frowning, Stiles decided he did look better with longer hair, but it was a bitch to take care of.

"Your first date," Dad amended, stepping into the room and catching Stiles' eyes in the mirror. "It's a big deal, Stiles."

"You didn't make a big deal like this when Scott first started dating Allison." Stiles frowned at his hair once more before turning back to face his father.

"Oh, we did. Your mima made Scott blush so hard!" Dad laughed. "He didn't tell you? Probably wanted to save face."

"Yeah, probably," Stiles admitted with a chuckle. “Anyway, I’m just gonna go...”

Dad grabbed the back of Stiles’ neck first and said, “Nope. We’re gonna have a little chat first. Real short, I promise.”

“Daaad!”

“No, listen to me, son. I know it’s your first date, but when you’re on a date with a couple, sometimes there’s certain _expectations_ that people may or may not have when it’s just you and one other person on that first date. And I want you to be prepared.”

Wrinkling his nose, Stiles asked, “Prepared? Like condoms? Because I already-“ “Condoms,” Dad repeated with a nod, “but also keep in mind consent. Consent has to be continuous,” Dad touched one index finger with the other and then held out a second finger and pointed to that one too, “and enthusiastic. If you don’t have both of those qualifiers, it doesn’t count, alright? In my line of work, I see too many men who bully their way into getting what they want from their partners, and too many young people who go along with what is, essentially, _date rape_ because they went along with what the other guy was doing.”

“Dad!”

“I just don’t want you to get hurt and I don’t want to have to arrest you, alright, son?” Dad gave Stiles his best no-nonsense, I-don’t-want-you-to-disappoint-me stare. And it worked. God help Stiles, but it always worked. 

“Okay!” Stiles cried, nodding vigorously. “I mean, I’m pretty sure Cora could take both me and Boyd if she wanted to, so you have nothing to worry about, but okay. Continuous and... What was the other one again?” Stiles remembered that his dad had said enthusiastic, but he thought it would be funny to pretend to forget.

Like clockwork, Dad grunted in disapproval and cried, “Enthusiastic, Stiles! Enthusiastic consent!”

“Right, right,” Stiles said with a grin. “Cool, so I’m gonna go now or I’m gonna have to break a few traffic laws to keep from being late.”

“Don’t break _any_ laws, Stiles. Do you know how embarrassing it is being Sheriff and having to arrest your own son?”

“I’m guessing really embarrassing,” Stiles replied, grabbing his keys from the top of his dresser, giving his dad a jaunty salute, and escaping down the stairs before his dad wanted to tack on a discussion of safe sex or something.

A few minutes later, Stiles pulled up outside Boyd’s house, where Boyd and Cora were standing on the porch stoop together, looking at him expectantly. Sometimes he hated werewolf hearing. They’d probably heard his jeep coming from several blocks away. Maybe they could even hear how fast his heart was beating. Trying to combat the urge to have a no-holds-barred panic attack, Stiles took a few deep breaths. He could do this. It was just Boyd and Cora. It wasn’t like they were both vicious, but also very sexy, superhumans who could tear him limb to limb if he did something stupid.

Stiles was starting to regret the way he’d lusted after some of his comic book characters. He’d never really thought about what would happen if wolverine got pissed that you didn’t offer to pick up the check, or if you told a tasteless joke about Russians in front of Black Widow. So, yeah. Maybe Stiles should just keep his mouth shut and be grateful that Cora, at least, found him attractive enough to ask on a date.

After another couple of deep breaths, Stiles got out of the Jeep to meet his dates halfway up the sidewalk. “Hi guys. You ready to go?”

Boyd blinked at Stiles slowly and Cora rolled her eyes. Man, what a fantastic start to the evening. Gulping nervously, Stiles pointed back at the Jeep, “Well, I got the Jeep all gassed up. All ready. Who wants shotgun and who wants the hump seat?”

“Boyd’s legs are longer,” Cora said as she sauntered past Stiles, grazing his chest with the tips of her fingers as she went by. Stiles shuddered and watched Cora let herself into Stiles’ Jeep and sat in the middle front seat. Suddenly Stiles resented the shift stick being between the driver’s and the middle seats, rather than being on the steering column like it was in Mima’s station wagon.

Stiles gave Boyd a smile and then scrambled to get himself into the driver’s seat and buckled in. Boyd climbed in next to Cora and put his arm around her shoulders. Stiles wondered what having Boyd’s arm around his shoulders would feel like. “So, what do you guys want to do? I mean we could...”

“Let’s go out to the quarry,” Cora said and Stiles let his mouth hang open in shock. The quarry was where teenagers went to make out and have bad car sex. Everyone knew that. Cora had to know that, right? Even though she was sort of new in town?

Stiles looked around Cora to Boyd and raised his eyebrows. A slow grin spread across Boyd’s face and he nodded. Stiles decided driving with a boner was the worst thing ever, but he pulled out of Boyd’s driveway anyway and took them toward the road that led to the quarry. “So, um, do you guys go out to the quarry often?”

“We should get take out on the way.” Boyd shifted in his seat and pointed Stiles toward a burger place. “My treat. It’ll be like a picnic.”

“Thanks, babe,” Cora said, nodding Stiles toward the burger place as well.

“Um, yeah, sure.” Stiles pulled into the lot and parked. “Thanks, ba-Boyd.”

Cora snorted and Boyd stepped out of the car. Jesus, he was almost tall enough to sit in the seat of the Jeep without having to jump up first. “Any requests?”

“No onions,” was the only thing Stiles could think of, but Cora rattled off a bizarre and complicated order that didn’t seem to faze Boyd in the slightest. After he’d left, Stiles asked Cora, “So, what do you want to talk about? Like, I’m curious. Where have you been the last six years?”

“I don’t want to talk about _that_ ,” Cora insisted, turning in her seat to more fully face Stiles. “I’d rather talk about you. What sort of things do you like?”

“Oh, you know,” Stiles gestured and whacked his hand against the steering wheel. “Ow. The usual. Movies, video games, comic books. That sort of thing. How about you?”

"I like working out," she said, shrugging casually and looking out the windshield and into the restaurant, where Boyd was just stepping up to the counter to order.

Stiles tilted his head and watched Cora for a moment, really trying not to compare her too much to her brother, because it was actually starting to freak him out a little. "What about when you were little? Before… Well, before. What did you like to do then?"

"Be outside," Cora told Stiles with a sigh. "Run."

Stiles watched Cora for another moment before saying, "You know, you're really gonna have to meet me halfway here. I mean, yeah I want to date you, but I know nothing about you and-"

Cora cut Stiles off by leaning over the shifter to kiss him. Her lips were harder than Stiles was expecting, but smooth and they definitely worked for him. God, they so worked for him. Stiles sucked in a breath through his nose and brought his hand up to wind into Cora's hair. He wondered if this was what his dad meant by "enthusiastic consent."

After a few kisses, Stiles pulled back. "Well, um. That was great. Like really, really-"

"I think so, too," Cora said, grinning and wiping the corner of her mouth with one thumb. She looked down and traced the shifter with one finger and Stiles had to bite the inside of his cheek so he wouldn't ask whether she was being highly suggestive on purpose or not. "I just … I don't like talking about my family. Okay? I'd rather talk about you."

"Yeah," Stiles said softly, suddenly feeling the urge to comfort Cora. He put his hand over hers. "Yeah, I know what that's like. I don't talk about my mom very often. It's too hard."

"Exactly. So, why don't you tell me more about you?"

"Okay," Stiles agreed with a sharp nod. "What do you want to know?"

They chatted about Stiles' favorite movies, none of which Cora had seen, and Stiles was just getting to the good part in his retelling of Star Wars when Boyd came back with the food. He didn't seem to mind listening to Stiles continue talking as they drove toward the quarry. Boyd even chimed in by saying, "Han shot first."

"Oh, my god! I know!" Stiles slowed down and stopped at a red light. "I can't believe they changed it!"

"Why does it matter?" Cora asked around a mouthful of fries.

Stiles scoffed and turned down the gravel road that lead out to the quarry. "Why does it matter? Everyone loved Han as this morally ambiguous asshole. Changing it so he kills Greedo in self-defense is a cop-out and total pandering to the family-friendly crowd who wants their heroes to be untainted and goody-two-shoes. I mean, they've got Luke for that! I just… Sorry. I've been holding in this rant forever because Scott still won't watch Star Wars because he thinks the Ewoks are freaky."

"There aren't any Ewoks until the third movie," Boyd pointed out.

"I know!" Stiles sighed and pulled the jeep up into the informal parking lot off to the side of the gravel road. He and Scott had only been here during the day, on the occasional weekend when no one was home and they got it into their heads to ride their bikes really far away from home.

As Stiles followed Boyd and Cora out toward the quarry and a grassy patch next to where the ground dropped off into the pit of rock, he asked Cora, "You're sure you don't mind listening to me talk on and on about movies you haven't even seen?"

Cora shook her head. "I like it. This one," she looped her arm around Boyd's elbow, "is more about the comfortable silences."

Boyd snorted, but didn't say anything. It made Stiles chuckle.

"And…" Cora said, pulling Boyd so he came with her toward a particularly flat boulder, "it kind of reminds me of my dad. He was human, you know."

"I _didn't_ know," Stiles said, looking to Boyd, who simply shrugged and sat down on the boulder. Stiles followed and found that the rock was still warm from the sun. Boyd handed him a burger, which he took and unwrapped, sniffing it once before taking a bite. Because he couldn't wait until he was done chewing, Stiles still had his mouth full when he asked, "Is that common? Having humans in werewolf families?"

"Sometimes," Cora said, taking her sandwich and looking up at the stars. When she didn't elaborate, Stiles figured she didn't want to talk about it anymore.

Stiles tried once or twice to get the conversation going again, but didn't have much luck, beyond getting a few laughs out of Boyd when he said he actually kind of liked the newer Star Wars movies. Blushing, Stiles tried to think about anything else to talk about and his mind circled back to the last two weeks of relative peace. "Do you guys think the alpha pack is still in town? I mean, that Kali person really had it out for Derek. I just don't see her up and leaving just because her boss got knocked on his ass."

"The twins are still in school," Boyd pointed out, taking the last bite of his sandwich. Man, that guy had a big mouth. It gave Stiles ideas. Lots of very bad ideas.

"That's true." Stiles sighed and wiped his greasy fingers on his pants before he could remind himself to use a napkin. Cora didn't seem to notice and Boyd didn't seem to care. "Mima told me they're releasing Ms. Blake from the hospital tomorrow."

"She's still not a werewolf, huh?" Boyd asked, and Stiles watched the way one of his hands ghosted over his right side, just above his hip. 

"Uh-uh. And she had, like, all these signs of infection, but the wound kept healing anyway. It's barely even a scar now. The doctors are all freaked out."

"It sucks that we had to bring her to the hospital in the first place." Cora sighed and took a long sip of the chocolate shake she and Boyd were sharing. "She would have been fine if we had just taken her to Deaton."

Stiles frowned at Cora. "Really? Because Mima told me she almost died of shock. She's _human_ , Cora. Like your dad. Like _me_. We don't heal as easily as you do."

"I know that!" she cried loudly before clapping a hand over her mouth. The sound echoed through the quarry and Stiles couldn't help but tense up. It had only been two weeks since the last spate of violence. Maybe an outburst like Cora's would be able to draw the terror back in.

When nothing happened for a good minute, Stiles sighed loudly.

"I'm sorry," Cora said, shuffling closer and putting her hand on Stiles'. "It's just ... I know all about humans having different limits. I was eleven when I watched my father collapse because of the smoke. I saw my cousin Mitch catch on fire just before my mom pushed me through the little hole she'd managed to make. That happened because people found out about us. I don't want it to happen again."

"Even if it means watching Derek watch while someone he loves dies?" Stiles asked, as Boyd came over and wrapped his arms around Cora. 

Boyd also set his hand on Stiles' shoulder and his hand felt warm though Stiles' shirt. And comforting. Stiles leaned into the touch before he could help himself. Things with his parents had been strained lately and he hadn't been spending as much time with Scott and Stiles realized he missed being touched.

"Even then," Cora insisted, leaning against Boyd as well and lacing her fingers through Stiles'. "Can we talk about something else now? Tell me another one of your movies."

"Sure," Stiles agreed, going through a list of movies in his head before deciding on one. "Ever seen The Dark Knight Rises?"

Boyd chuckled and slid his hand further around Stiles' shoulders. Cora shook her head.

~*~

After Stiles dropped Boyd and Cora back at Boyd's house (he wanted to ask if Cora was staying with Boyd or what, but he didn't think it was polite), he drove back toward his house in the dark. It started to rain, so he turned on his windshield wipers and looked up just in time to see someone walking down the middle of the road.

Stiles slammed on his brakes and swerved, cursing as the jeep began to hydroplane sideways. Luckily it came to a stop before he hit the curb and the telephone pole on the other side of the street. "Shit," he whispered to himself, shakily putting the Jeep in park and killing the engine. He turned on the hazard lights and then opened the door. He was pretty sure he hadn't hit the person in the road, but what if he had? What if this body was _his_ fault?

Swallowing against the urge to throw up, Stiles slid out of the Jeep and walked around it toward where he'd seen the figure in the road. If it had been some sort of vision or ghost, he was going to be seriously pissed. Instead, Stiles saw a figure walking away from him, still traveling straight down the middle of the road.

"Hey!" Stiles cried, running after the figure, back the way he'd come. "Hey, you! What are you doing in the middle of the road?"

The figure kept walking and as Stiles caught up and started to round the figure, he could tell it was a man. No, scratch that. It was a werewolf.

"Derek?" Stiles asked, getting in front of the guy and holding out his hand so Derek would stop.

Derek did pause, look at Stiles' hand for a second, and then turn to go around Stiles. At no time did he make eye contact with Stiles.

"What the f-" Stiles pursed his lips in frustration and turned, walking next to Derek at the same pace. "Are you sleepwalking or something? You're supposed to be staying with Ms. Blake, right? Until she feels better?"

No response. Derek kept his gaze - well, his glare, really - on the road ahead of him.

"You think waking a sleepwalking werewolf is worse than a sleepwalking human?" Stiles asked as they walked. "It probably is. Like, I'll try to wake you up and you'll gut me with your claws. Yeah, I should just go."

Stiles didn't go. He kept walking next to Derek, who still wouldn't acknowledge his presence except to walk around him whenever Stiles tried to get in his way.

Eventually, Stiles got frustrated and grabbed Derek's wrist, pulling back on it with all his weight. Derek pulled Stiles along, Stiles' shoes scraping against the pavement, for a few paces before he stopped and looked back at Stiles. "What are you doing?"

Confused, Stiles stood up and let go of Derek's wrist. "What am _I_ doing? What are _you_ doing? Why are you out here? Isn't Ms. Blake still really sick?"

Derek blinked and then furrowed his eyebrows. "She's...sleeping," he said slowly, like he was having trouble remembering. "She's sleeping. I just came out for a walk."

"Okay, _that's_ a load of crap. Ms. Blake's apartment is, like, five miles away and I almost hit you with my car, Derek! What the frick is going on?" Stiles felt like he could seriously strangle Derek if he didn't start making sense soon.

Derek glared at Stiles for a moment before his face softened. "Just go home, Stiles. Check on your brother. Don't worry about me."

With that, Derek turned and stalked away, that "don't talk to me" tenseness obvious in his shoulders. Stiles sighed and accepted the fact that he wasn't going to get any answers. Maybe Derek _had_ been sleepwalking and he was just too embarrassed to admit it.

~*~

Lydia finished moving things back and forth between her locker and her bag, glad that class was over for the day. In the past two weeks of peace, she'd managed to catch up with her school work and work almost a month ahead, proactively. Given the "waiting for the other shoe to drop" feeling that kept following Lydia around like a cloud of too much perfume, it seemed wise.

Checking her makeup one last time, Lydia sighed. She closed her locker door and shrieked a little, jumping out of her skin at the sight of Cora standing there, staring at her. "What are you doing here?"

Cora shrugged. "Meeting Stiles and Boyd."

Lydia raised one eyebrow and waited for some sort of elaboration, but it never came. "No, I mean what are you doing _here_ , talking to _me_?"

"It's too bad you passed up on the opportunity to date Stiles. He's a very good kisser."

"Okay." Lydia tilted her head and readjusted her bag on her shoulder. "Is that it? You're just here to gloat?"

"I'm here to tell you your taste in boys sucks," Cora said, crossing her arms under her breasts. "You do realize that your _boyfriend_ is one of the alphas that almost killed Boyd?"

"So what if he is?" The stubborn pride that welled up in Lydia's chest was a problem, she knew this, but still she pushed back. "No one's saying anything to Danny about dating Ethan."

"Danny doesn't know about all of this," Cora replied. She leaned a little closer, her eyes focused intently on Lydia's. "But you do. If you see Aiden again, I'll rip out your tongue."

Out of reflex, Lydia clenched her teeth together and jutted out her chin. No one was going to take Lydia's tongue, thank you very much. How dare this _stranger_ tell Lydia what she could and could not do with her own body? Sticking her finger in Cora's face, Lydia said, "Listen here, sweetheart. My last boyfriend was a homicidal lizard. I think I can handle a _werewolf_." Lydia's conviction was at least eighty percent bravado, but Cora didn't need to know that.

And Lydia didn't need to stick around to be shamed. She was supposed to meet Aiden across town in twenty minutes, and it wasn't like Cora would do anything to her here, in front of a school full of witnesses. Lydia turned on her heel, stuck her nose in the air, and sauntered away. She kept her pace full of righteous rage all the way out to her car, where she climbed in and started the engine.

Well, Lydia _tried_ to start the engine, but it wouldn't turn over. She tried twice more before giving up and popping the hood. She couldn't do much without tools and while wearing couture, but maybe she could diagnose the problem visually.

Lydia got as far as pulling the hood open before she noticed Cora walking with Stiles and Boyd toward Stiles' blue Jeep. Cora grinned at Lydia. Clenching her teeth angrily, Lydia looked down at the engine block and found it criss-crossed with claw marks. Several pieces appeared to be missing and most of the hoses she could see were shredded. 

Screaming in outrage, Lydia slammed the hood back down. She looked across the parking lot for Cora, but Stiles' Jeep was already pulling out of the lot. Oh, Cora was going to pay. She was going to pay so hard for what she'd done to Lydia's car.

By the time Lydia's father picked her up and drove her home, and she convinced him she needed to borrow his car, she was forty-five minutes late to meeting Aiden. He'd wanted to meet her at some greasy spoon, but Lydia had insisted on meeting in the park before allowing him to take her to a steak house. 

Lydia parked her father's car in the lot and checked her phone. She'd texted Aiden three times about arriving late, but he'd only responded to the first one. As soon as she opened the door, she knew something was wrong. 

It was the same sharp tug in her gut as she'd felt just before finding that boy next to the pool. Someone was dead. Someone had been _murdered_ , if Stiles was right about her. The only question left was whether Aiden had done the murdering, or whether he was the victim.

He was supposed to meet her on the bench next to the big tree, but Lydia found herself drawn down one of the hiking trails instead. Sunset was still a few hours off, but the trail felt dark and creepy, and yet Lydia couldn't stop herself from walking down it. Heart beating loudly in her throat, Lydia pulled her phone from her purse and dialed Stiles' number.

After far too long, Lydia was connected to Stiles' voice mail. After the beep, she said, "Damn you, Stilinski! Things are getting weird and I don't care if you _are_ finally getting laid right now, you need to call me back right away!"

Lydia stopped walking when she came to a break in the trees, standing in the middle of the only patch of sun she'd seen for five minutes. She shivered and looked around, the dark between the trees seeming endless as her eyes adjusted to being back in the sunshine. Her phone rang in her hand and Lydia screamed, jumping out of her skin. She clapped one hand over her mouth and answered her phone with the other.

"Huh-mumm?"

"Lydia?" Stiles' voice asked.

Lydia took her hand off her mouth and told Stiles, "I'm getting that feeling."

"What feeling?"

"That somebody-is-dead-and-I'm-about-to-find-the-body feeling. You need to get to Beacon Park, on the west edge of the Preserve."

"Shit," Stiles said softly. "Fine. I'll be there soon."

"And don't bring Cora. After what she did to my car, if I see her face, one of us isn't walking away." Lydia was dead serious, even if she knew she had no weapons that could make her a match a werewolf.

"After what she did to your…" Stiles paused, then said, "Yeah, yeah. Okay. I'll come alone."

He hung up before Lydia could tell him not to phrase it like that. He sounded like he was playing right into the horror movie cliche that was quickly becoming her life.

And Lydia, of course, couldn't just stand there like a good girl in the patch of sunlight in the middle of the woods. No, she had to play into the cliche as well and go looking for whatever had impelled her into the woods. It only took a few paces into the shadows before Lydia's curiosity was rewarded and she saw a boot and it's attached jean-covered leg lying in the trail. The leg led back into the underbrush to what Lydia assumed was the body she was here to find.

Unable to stop herself, Lydia leaned over the leg and used both hands to pull apart the bush, to see if she recognized the boot's owner. The leg ended abruptly with torn, jagged edges of cloth that were stained dark, probably with blood. Lydia gasped and jumped backward. That was a leg. That was someone's torn-off leg and Lydia had a feeling that boot looked familiar.

"Oh, shit," she whispered to herself, looking further down the trail. There was an arm laying in the path about twenty yards up. Scrambling toward it, Lydia saw that it was also torn from the body it belonged to, very close to the shoulder if she wasn't mistaken. That hand looked familiar, too.

Lydia swallowed so she wouldn't throw up or pass out or something. She wanted to wait for Stiles to get there before she found the ultimate body-part that would tell her the dead man's identity - the head – but she caught a glimpse of its hair, lying off in the ferns to the side of the trail, and she couldn't wait. She needed to know.

Somehow Lydia felt relieved that the head was still attached to the body, but the body ended mid-chest, so maybe relief wasn't exactly relevant. In any case, both head and chest were facing down and if Lydia wanted to know who had died, she would have to turn the bloody piece of corpse over.

Lydia _needed_ to know.

She grabbed the torso by its intact arm, but flinched back when it felt warm. She'd been expecting a cold body, something hours or even days old, but maybe she shouldn't have. The smell of blood was strong, as strong as when she'd knelt in a puddle of it before finding the dead virgin, but there was no scent of decay. This man had _just_ been murdered. He'd _just_ been torn to pieces.

What if the killer was still out there?

Closing her eyes and taking a deep breath through her mouth, Lydia let it out as she stood up and looked around. She couldn't see anyone. In fact, the entire forest seemed eerily quiet, as if all of the animals had fled from whoever had done this.

And still, Lydia _needed_ to know.

Crouching back down, the dry leaves sharp against her ankles, Lydia took the corpse by the shoulder and pulled, flipping it over. The head lolled, barely connected after having its throat slit from ear to ear.

It was Aiden.

Lydia screamed.

Her eyes welled up with tears and she collapsed into the leaves on the forest floor. It was stupid and weak, and Lydia hadn't even liked Aiden all that much. He had been pushy and rude and she had only been with him because it had been exciting. That and because she _could_.

And now he was dead. Aiden was dead and Lydia was crying over his corpse like the silly little girl she was.

She didn't even move, but somehow Stiles found her. He found her and pulled her away from Aiden and held her to his chest. Lydia covered his stupid shirt in tears and ignored the way Stiles' touch felt tingly against her back.

~*~

"Hey," Stiles said when Allison left Lydia's house. He was leaning against his Jeep, which was parked in Lydia's driveway. "How's she doing?"

"About as well as you'd expect," Allison replied, stopping a few feet away from Stiles. He looked thin. And tired. But to be honest, Allison saw the same things in the mirror these days. "Did you talk to Deaton? Was it the Darach?"

"Yeah." Stiles looked down. "Well, I talked to Mima. Aiden had the same marks of the threefold death. You know, the blow to the head." Stiles mimed bashing himself in the head before putting his hands around his neck. "Strangulation with a garotte, and the, you know, throat slashing." He drew his finger across his neck. "Not that it makes anyone feel better, but Mima's pretty sure he was dead _before_ he was ripped apart."

Frowning, Allison moved to lean on the Jeep next to Stiles. "That was weird, right? None of the other victims were dismembered like that."

"None of the other victims were werewolves," Stiles pointed out. "Isn't that something you hunters do? Cut a werewolf in half so you know he's dead?"

Allison nodded silently. She hadn't seen her grandfather cut anyone in half, but he'd talked about it a couple of times. "Sometimes a werewolf can appear dead for _days_ and still heal."

"Like when you guys left Derek for dead," Stiles said and it struck Allison as a little harsh.

Getting defensive, she stood up and paced a few steps away before telling Stiles, "You weren't there. Without our own alpha, we didn't stand a chance against four of them. We had to retreat."

Holding up his hands, Stiles nodded. "No, you're right. You're right." He sighed. "But Derek healed. And Peter Hale came back, _somehow_ , after being dead for months. No one's ever really explained that one to me."

Chuckling, Allison said, "Me neither."

Stiles frowned and scratched his fingers through his hair. He was silent long enough that Allison took a step toward where her car was parked on the street. Before she could get more than one step away, Stiles asked, "Have you noticed anything wrong with Derek?"

"Wrong how?" Allison asked carefully.

"Like...off," Stiles said. "I mean, I almost ran him over with my car because he was sleepwalking down the freaking street, and he just told me to go home."

Thinking back on it, Allison nodded. "I saw him the other day. He seemed distracted or something. Like he wasn't quite sure where he was or what he was doing."

Stiles nodded down at his feet for a moment before looking at Allison. "Doesn't it seem eerily familiar?"

Allison's stomach dropped as soon as she made the connection. "Like Lydia," she said, wrapping her arms around herself. "Last year. She kept just … not being there."

"You know what else I noticed?" Stiles asked, snorting cynically and looking down. "Though, I don't know why you'd believe me. No one else does."

Allison took a step toward Stiles. "About what?"

"Except for the whole fugue state, Ms. Blake's reaction to a werewolf bite was the same as Lydia's. The doctors think it's a new strain of rabies or something, but I don't." He jutted out his jaw and stood up straighter.

"What do you think it is?" Allison asked, trying to guess. She remembered Derek saying something about how Ms. Blake's reaction to the bite was something Deucalion was doing to her. Of course, he'd been acting oddly when he said that, so Allison wasn't sure whether to believe Derek or not. Instead, maybe Stiles was right and there was something about the way Peter bit Lydia and Deucalion bit Ms. Blake that was the same. "Neither one of them agreed to the bite."

Shaking his head, Stiles said, "Neither did Scott. No, I think it has less to do with the werewolves doing the biting and more to do with the people getting bit. If they're even people."

Nervous laughter escaped from Allison's mouth before she could stop it. "What do you mean? Of course they're people."

"Are you sure about that?" Stiles stood away from his Jeep and closed the distance between him and Allison. He looked directly into her eyes. "I think you should ask your dad what he's been keeping from you."

"What would he keep from me?"

"The existence of other things? He and Gerard seemed to know an awful lot about the kanima. Now there's a dark druid? All I'm saying is that we have a bestiary, not a werewolf-iary. Maybe Lydia and Ms. Blake are, I don't know, _fairies_ or something? It would explain why they were both immune to the bite."

"The whole thing is in Ancient Latin," Allison pointed out. "It would take us _months_ to even find the right page if there's no picture."

"Unless you ask your dad," Stiles nodded. "Don't you think Lydia deserves to know why _she_ keeps finding the bodies?"

"Yeah." Allison drew a deep breath and looked away from Stiles as she let it out. Catching his eye again, she continued. "Yeah, she does. I'll ask him as soon as I can."


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the wake of Aiden's death, Beacon Hills descends back into chaos.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, everyone. Last week was very busy for me. I finally got a chance to finish this chapter up at lunch today. Enjoy!
> 
> Edited 9/5 for typos and slight clarifications.

Boyd sat at the back of the auditorium for the assembly, his left arm around Stiles. Isaac and then Scott and Allison sat on Boyd's right, with Lydia next to Stiles and Danny on her other side.

Boyd felt a little bad for feeling kind of happy with the situation, since the assembly was about how a student had been killed. Well, whatever. Aiden Vargstrom had tried to kill him. Boyd was allowed feel happy about being in the middle of a big group of friends. Hell, Boyd could even feel happy about Aiden being dead. Sacrificing Aiden was first thing the Darach had done right, as far as Boyd was concerned.

"...being understanding in this time of grief, I would please urge you not to speak ill of the dead. Again. It's not funny. And please, give Aiden's family some time to come to grips with this senseless tragedy." Boyd wondered how long the principal could possibly talk about this topic, because it had been almost twenty minutes so far, and Boyd had caught about two sentences worth of information.

"Where is Ethan, really?" Isaac asked Scott in a whisper.

"I don't know," Scott told him. "With the rest of his pack, I guess. Helping Deucalion plot his big comeback?"

The principal paused for a second or two and then said, "In other news, English teacher Ms. Blake is recovering well from her animal attack. We expect to have her back in the classroom in two weeks. In the meantime, Mrs. Welling will continue to substitute. So, thanks to Mrs. Welling."

Stiles set his head back against Boyd's arm and sighed, an action which made Boyd smile. To be honest, before Cora showed interest in Stiles, Boyd hadn't really considered Stiles to be datable. Then again, before getting The Bite and being with Erica, Boyd hadn't really considered himself someone datable either. But after spending some time with him, Boyd began to think of Stiles' overwhelming curiosity as endearing rather than annoying.

Sometimes Boyd did wonder what things would have been like if it had been just him and Erica caught in the vault for three months, with no one else. He wondered what he would have done if it had been just him and Erica’s body sitting there, waiting for the alphas to let him loose on his old pack. He probably would have given up, would have made the alphas kill him before they could use him to attack innocent people. It was Cora who convinced him that life was still worth living and that there was hope. She’d been so convinced that her brother would stop them, despite everything he and Erica told her about Derek’s track record as an alpha. And Boyd had needed hope.

He never expected to care for anyone other than Erica, because he hadn't felt much for Isaac, aside from the camaraderie that came from going through the same changes at the same time. So Boyd’s feelings for Cora had been a surprise. He hadn't expected to care so much about her opinion and about her safety and about her feelings. His parents’ marriage had been atypical ever since he could remember. Boyd’s Papa had always been a little more distant from the rest of the family, and even more so when Boyd’s sister disappeared. It was clear that Dad and Mom loved each other, and Papa was just some guy who lived in their house. Boyd kept waiting for the conversation when they’d tell him that they were getting divorced, but so far it hadn't happened. Maybe Boyd expected his love life to be the same. He’d find one person he loved so much he couldn't stand to be apart from them, and then maybe they’d find a third person they both tolerated well enough.

When Cora joined his and Erica’s relationship, Boyd realized how much he’d been missing the point, and how little he knew about what a healthy relationship looked like. When Erica died, Boyd lost one of the people he loved best in the world, but he also lost that feeling of, “this is it.” He missed feeling complete, so when Cora had suggested dating Stiles, Boyd had surprised himself by saying yes.

So far, Boyd had been happy with the decision. He liked the way Stiles’ shoulders felt broad, but still delicate when he tightened his arm around them. He liked the way Stiles’ skin smelled and the way it felt against his lips when he pressed a light kiss to Stiles’ jaw. He liked the way Stiles shivered and smiled up at Boyd, like he was completely surprised someone would ever show him some affection. And of course, Boyd wanted to do so much more with Stiles than he’d had the chance to so far, but Cora wanted to go a little slow, so Boyd held himself back from asking for too much, from pushing for too much.

“...please return to your classes and go about your business. The best thing we can do in the face of all our recent losses is to keep living. You’re dismissed.” The principal nodded once more and then left the podium, and Boyd watched as all of the students stood up en masse.

“So werewolves are the next group of sacrifices,” Boyd said to Stiles quietly, so the only people overhearing him would be Scott and Isaac. 

“Yeah, probably,” Stiles replied, slipping his hand into Boyd’s and smiling almost shyly when Boyd allowed it. “I mean, the Darach tried to get you guys when we were at that creepy motel, and it looks like he’s finally starting to try again.”

“I’ll try not to make myself a target,” Boyd assured Stiles. “I mean, it’s my turn to save you, and all.”

Chuckling softly, Stiles nudged Boyd’s hip with their entwined hands. “I might just hold you to that. I mean, werewolf brother, werewolf boyfriend, werewolf girlfriend. I’m all set.”

Boyd noticed the strained tone in Stiles’ voice, like he’d forgotten how to be completely relaxed and completely amused by something, and it made Boyd angry. He _wanted_ to protect Stiles from harm, of course, but he also remembered a time when Stiles appeared to be obnoxiously happy. Boyd was beginning to suspect that Stiles had gotten used to seeming happy after his mother’s death, and for a few years maybe it was true. But now, he was sure Stiles put on that same brave face and even then, things had gotten so bad lately that his well-worn mask slipped more and more often.

Boyd felt a little like poking and prodding until he got to Stiles’ soft, gooey center, because he wanted to know that his theories about Stiles were right. Of course, Boyd would wait until their lives were a little more peaceful than at the moment, but he wasn’t sure he could put off knowing forever. Boyd had seen Erica at her most desperate and Cora at her most vulnerable, and Boyd couldn’t help but want to see Stiles’ break down, too, because he liked being the guy that people felt safe confiding in. He liked being seen as strong, because for so much of his life, Boyd had felt one straw short of emotional breakdown at any moment. He liked being the guy that held people when they cried, not the guy who was crying.

~*~

"Derek?" Jen called as she pulled herself out of the bathtub. The wound on her side might have been invisible at that point, but it still hurt like hot irons when she moved wrong. Wasn't that like all wounds, though? The nastiest-looking ones were rarely the ones that hurt the deepest.

Or maybe Jen had no idea what she was talking about. Like always.

Wincing at the pain, Jen managed to get herself out of the tub and wrapped in a towel. Opening the bathroom door, she called again, "Derek?"

He didn't answer. Jen frowned. She had only been home for a day, but Derek had yet to leave her alone for more than five minutes. She'd thought he was being a gentleman when he left her to her bath for a straight half hour. Now she wasn't so sure.

Readjusting her towel, Jen opened the bathroom door and went out into the apartment. Everything was still and in its proper place as she went through the bedroom. Nothing was off in the living room either. She made it to the small kitchen and finally found a sign of Derek - a note stuck to the refrigerator. 

_Went home for a bit. Back for dinner._

Jen sighed in relief. That made sense. Derek probably needed clean clothes and maybe even some time alone. Jen had been talking at him a lot. It seemed like, since she'd been so out of it, and was still weak, that talking was the only thing she had left. Maybe it got annoying for a quiet guy like Derek to listen to day after day.

Jen had been out of the hospital for three days, but the line of pill bottles on her kitchen table was still impressive. There were painkillers (Jen was avoiding those as much as she could because they made her so sick) and several different antibiotics and a bigger dose of Jen's normal antidepressant and her normal dose of antipsychotic. She picked up the last bottle and turned it over a few times in her hands, listening to the pills rattle around.

What if that werewolf, Deucalion, had been right? What if the voices weren't a product of her broken brain? What if they were real? What if she was a "Medium"? Jen hadn't told Derek about that part of Deucalion's speech. Derek still thought it was his fault she'd been bitten. She hated letting him think that, but she didn't know how to bring up the subject she'd been pushing down for so long.

Jen wondered what would happen if she stopped taking her medications. Would the voices start to make sense? Would they distract her from her life? From her job?

If she still had a job. Sure, having been in the hospital was a great excuse, but she did need to go back to work very soon. If she stopped taking her meds, if she started hearing voices again, how was Jen supposed to teach?

Sighing, Jen twisted open the bottle.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you."

At the sound of a woman's voice, Jen shrieked. The pills went flying and she had to throw one hand across her body to catch her towel before it slipped. Whirling around, Jen saw a familiar person standing in the kitchen doorway. "Marin? What are you doing here?"

Before the guidance counselor could respond, the scary werewolf lady appeared in the doorway behind her. Jen gasped. Marin Morell gave Jen a soft smile and said, "No one has to get hurt. Just cooperate with us, and we'll be out of your hair in no time."

"Oh, my god," Jen groaned, her hand shaking as she pushed wet hair out of her face. "Am I being kidnapped again? You know, this is getting kind of old."

"No kidnapping," Marin insisted, giving the werewolf lady a side-long glance. "Just a nice little chat." Flicking her eyes down at Jen's towel, Marin added, "Maybe you should get dressed."

"Y-yeah. I can do that."

As Jen brushed past Marin and the scary werewolf lady, the latter growled, "Don't even think about going down the fire escape. My boy doesn't want to hurt you, but he will if you try to run."

Jen shuddered and choked back a sob. When she got to her bedroom, she closed the door and leaned back against it, taking a deep breath. Marin wouldn't let that monster hurt her again. She probably wouldn't let him.

Oh, god! What if she let him?

Shivering and trying not to cry, Jen got dressed. If she was going to die, damn it, she was going to die in cute clothes. The moving around made her side ache, but she finished dressing quickly. After all, a werewolf would have no trouble breaking down her bedroom door.

When she was done, Jen steadied herself with a few deep breaths. She was going through with this whether she wanted to or not, and Jen would rather it be on her own terms than on someone else's.

Trying not to tremble too visibly, Jen held her chin up and walked out to face the demons in her apartment. Marin was waiting for her and escorted Jen to the living room, where the woman werewolf was sitting on the center cushion of the couch. The werewolf who'd bit her, Deucalion, was slung over Ethan's shoulder. Jen wondered where his brother was. As for Deucalion, he looked unconscious, or maybe even dead. The way Ethan held Deucalion up reminded Jen of _Weekend at Bernie's_ and she giggled before she could stop herself.

The werewolf on the couch glared at Jen. But she addressed Marin when she said, "Give her the tea."

Marin picked up one of Jen's mugs (the one with the pink and black kitty) from the coffee table and handed it to her. Steam curled up from the muddy-looking surface and Jen made a face. "I'm not thirsty, thanks."

"Drink it," Marin insisted, raising her eyebrows. Behind Marin, the werewolves all sneered at Jen. It seemed she didn't have a choice.

Maybe it was poison and she was being offered a less painful method of death than being ripped apart by angry werewolves. Jen brought the cup to her lips and took a long sip, despite the heat of the liquid being uncomfortable against her tongue and throat. She swallowed. "All of it?" she asked Marin.

Shaking her head, Marin took the cup from Jen and set it down on the coffee table. "That should be enough. Please," she gestured to Jen's reading chair opposite the couch, "sit down."

A sharp pain lanced against Jen's temples and she didn't so much sit down in the chair as collapse there. She felt what were probably Marin's hands helping her get situated, but everything had gone dark. "I can't see!"

"Are you sure about that?" Marin asked, her tone as calm and even as it always had been. 

Flashes of violence played out in Jen's mind, tinted crimson and accompanied by such a rush of maniacal glee that Jen felt she might be sick. "So many," she cried, finding Marin's hand and holding onto it for dear life. "Who's doing this?"

"You're seeing the things Deucalion has done," Marin told her. "You have a link to him through The Bite. Try to focus on what's happening in his mind _right now_. Try to see what needs to be done to bring him out of this."

"How am I supposed to do that?" Jen asked, distantly feeling tears running down her face. "They _trusted_ him. Oh, god, why do I know their names?" Faces flashed before Jen's eyes, all of them tinted red, all of them horrified and betrayed as Deucalion killed them. "Wendy, and Sam, and John, and Cecilia, and Ennis. God, so many others!"

"Ennis?" asked the werewolf lady. "Deucalion killed Ennis?"

Shrinking away from the anger on the werewolf's voice, Jen nodded. She focused on that memory, even though it was one of the most painful. It felt new, raw, and explicit. Her voice trembling, Jen told them, "Ennis was lying on a table. Some man said he was going to be fine, but then ... Then he - Deucalion - _crushed_ Ennis' head!"

A roar filled with rage startled Jen, but she couldn't stop seeing death and destruction. In the few moments when she couldn't see anything, she still felt the evil Deucalion held close to his heart. It terrified her.

"What if she's lying?" Ethan said, his voice almost panicked. Jen could barely hear it over the sounds coming from her visions. 

"Why would _she_ lie about Ennis? You both know Deucalion is a monster. If he killed Ennis, there's not a one of us he won't kill. I'm just getting there first."

"Kali!"

Jen's visions ended with a loud squelching noise and Jen had to blink a few times before she realized she was actually seeing the woman werewolf, Kali, standing in the middle of her living room with Deucalion's detached head in her hands. Jen doubled over and threw up.

"How could you do that?" Ethan cried, dropping Deucalion's body and making like he was about to attack Kali. Marin was focused on Kali as well. 

" _I'm_ the demon wolf now," Kali growled, her eyes flaring red. She looked like she might have actually been getting _taller_ as well. "And I won't ever hurt either of you unless you give me a reason."

Jen didn't really want to hear this conversation. In fact, she really didn't want to stare as a decapitated body bled all over her living room floor. She was never getting her deposit money back from the angry Corgi lady. 

"You should have _trusted_ him!"

Jen slipped away, carefully avoiding the puddle of vomit and making a break for it. She wasn't wearing shoes, but that didn't matter. All that mattered was that she had to get out of there, and she had to do it now.

Jen flew out the front door, leaving it open, and rushed down the stairs to the exit. The gravel outside the building was agony against her feet, but she bet having her head ripped off by an angry werewolf would hurt worse. 

Jen thanked the lord that she kept an extra key hidden on the undercarriage of her car, and grabbed it. Her hands shook as she slid open the magnetic box and retrieved the key. It took three heart wrenching tries before Jen could fit the key into the door lock, but she got it on that third try. 

The engine started without difficulty and Jen just barely made it out of the parking lot without hitting anything. She drove a little too fast through the light mid-afternoon traffic, and almost hit a truck when it pulled out in front of her. 

"I'm going to get myself killed," she said to herself, pulling into an office building's parking lot. She parked in a stall and killed the engine. Then she let herself slump against the steering wheel and sob.

Jen wasn't even sure _why_ she was crying. She was pretty sure it had more to do with the relief of making it out alive than it did with what she had seen. Though, the sight of a severed head, right in front of her, was probably going to have her in therapy forever.

The sharp rapping at her window made Jen jump and scream. She looked over and saw Derek at the passenger window, his face as casual as she'd ever seen it.

Calming herself with a big breath, Jen unlocked the passenger door. "How did you find me?"

"I was coming back to your house and I saw you driving away," Derek said as he sat down. "What happened?"

Jen looked over and met Derek's eyes and she just lost it. Shaking her head, she dissolved into sobs. Derek put an arm around her back, and his touch felt awkward, and almost hesitant, rather than sure as it had been the past few days. Jen sniffled and said, "I'm sorry. I don't usually cry like this."

"What did you see?" Derek's voice sounded flat, almost like he was angry, but when Jen glanced over, he had concern written all over his face. She must have been hearing things. 

"Kali, that alpha?" Derek nodded stiffly, so Jen continued. "She killed the big guy, Deucalion, right in front of me. I mean, I think he was down for the count anyways, since he didn't say anything, but she just ripped his head clean off his body. Like," Jen laughed a little hysterically and wiped her nose with the back of one hand. "Like taking the head off a Barbie doll. Pop! Only with blood and viscera."

Derek's nostrils flared and he looked past her. Jen almost turned around to look, but the way Derek's gaze drifted told her there wasn't actually anyone there. "Come with me," he said, turning to open the door. 

Jen hesitated, her hands gripping the steering wheel. From outside of the car, Derek opened Jen's door and leaned in toward her. Quietly, he said, "You'll be safer at my place. Cora and I will make sure you're not harmed."

Just like before, when Jen had been trapped in the school basement and the only way out was with this impossible man, Jen gave Derek her hand.

~*~

"Dad!" Allison called after her father as he tried to leave the apartment without talking to her _again_. "Dad, please. I just need to talk to you!"

Allison's father froze and then sighed as he turned around. He looked tired, like he hasn't slept in several nights at least. "Of course. Let's talk." The "but make it quick" was silent.

"Is there anything in the bestiary about people who are immune to werewolf bites?" Allison was finally able to ask after several days of trying to corner her dad. 

Chris' brows furrowed. "Ms. Blake."

"Yeah."

Allison watched her father's face as he looked away from her and up, and she knew this meant he was trying to think up some story to tell her. So Allison demanded, "Tell me the _truth_."

Chris frowned at Allison and huffed, but after a pause, he said, "I did some searching around after your friend was bit last year. There wasn't much, but he book talks very, very briefly about people who can speak to the dead. Mediums, it calls them. Now, I'm not saying that's what she is, because mediums are supposed to be extremely rare-"

"But they're immune to The Bite?" 

"According to legend." Nodding, Allison's father continued, "Now, there are other creatures immune to The Bite, but not many, and they tend not to look quite so..." Allison wondered if Chris was going to say "pretty" and she winced in anticipation, "human. Now, I need to go. You'll get to school on time?"

"Dad, it's the afternoon. And it's Saturday."

Chris looked up like he was doing the mental calculation. God, he hadn't been sleeping enough, had he? "Right. Well, be home on time. Don't get into trouble."

Allison gave her father her best, "Who, me?" look and chuckled with him as he left the apartment. 

She did a quick search on mediums and then went to go meet Scott and Isaac at the fish n' chips place. When she got there, Isaac had his arm around Scott's shoulders and Scott had his arm around Isaac's waist. They stared up at the menu board above the cashier and spoke softly to one another.

Allison found herself smiling. She approached them and slipped under Isaac's free arm. "Hi, boys."

"Hey, Allison," Isaac said, pulling her in tight. "You're just in time."

"Just in time for what?"

Looking at her from the other side of Isaac's chest, Scott said, "We're trying to decide which type of fries - straight or curly - and we need a tie breaker vote."

"Hmm," Allison said, pretending to think it over, even though the choice was clear. "I'm gonna have to go with..." Allison grinned, "...curly."

"Yes!" Isaac cried, while Scott pouted.

"I never get to order regular fries."

When it came time to order, Allison got an extra order of regular fries and was rewarded with one of Scott's brightest smiles. As they ate, Allison asked, "Have you guys noticed anything _off_ about Derek?"

"Not really," Scott said, looking over at Isaac, who shook his head.

"I mean, I haven't exactly seen much of him lately, but he seemed normal. Why?" Isaac took another bite of his sandwich, and mayo oozed out the sides.

"The other night, when he had us looking for the alpha pack, you don't think he seemed distracted? Like he wasn't all there?"

Frowning, Scott said, "Maybe. But doesn't that make sense? Deucalion bit his girlfriend. Of course he was distracted."

Allison tilted her head in agreement that Scott's explanation could be true. On the other hand, "Stiles told me he found Derek sleepwalking in the road. And Derek acted like it was no big deal that Stiles almost ran him over."

"Maybe he was just trying to save face," Isaac said, wiping his mouth with the back of one hand. "I mean, he's not one to admit he's wrong."

"That's true," Scott agreed. Turning back to Allison, Scott asked, "But what do you think could be wrong with him? I mean, sleepwalking isn't exactly a big concern at this point."

"It's-" Allison huffed, trying to figure out how to explain herself. "Well, Stiles pointed this out, but it's a lot like last year when Lydia started walking around doing things, and then not remembering afterward."

"That was all Peter." Scott's eyes widened. "Do you think Peter is doing something to Derek?"

Isaac rolled his eyes like Peter couldn't possibly be a suspect, and it made Allison frown in frustration. "You weren't in on all this when Peter was the alpha. You didn't- didn't _watch_ him slit your aunt's throat right in front of you. He is capable of _anything_." Allison really liked Isaac and she didn't want to blow up at him any more than she already had, so she stood up from the table and stalked toward the bathroom. She almost made it there when Scott slid around in front of her.

"Please stop," he said, his voice low and even. Allison stopped, but she didn't hold back her glare. "Allison. I told him about what happened, but he didn't _know_. He didn't know how close you were to Kate and he didn't know you were there when she died."

Allison sighed, "Yeah. I know. It's just- It's just that Peter's been back and everyone's fine with that, like they don't remember what a monster he can be, what he did to _Lydia_. What if he's doing it again? What if he's using our distraction with the Darach and with the alpha pack so we don't notice he's up to his old tricks. What if he _is_ controlling Derek?"

"We'll figure it out," Scott insisted, taking Allison's hand and kissing it. "Together."

Allison couldn't help but smile.

~*~

Lydia looked at the bottle of pills her mother had given her and resolutely set it back down on her bedside table without taking one. They rattled ominously and Lydia dug her nails into her palms. Aiden didn't even mean that much to her. He was a distraction. An exciting distraction, but a distraction nonetheless. She barely knew him and he hadn't known anything more about her than she'd carefully selected for him to know.

Standing up from her bed, Lydia sighed. It was time to sleep, but her head felt too full to even attempt sleep. She could take a pill and get her beauty sleep, but this deep feeling of dread had made itself at home in the pit of her stomach and she felt like sedation would just make her miss something important.

Like the bodiless voices she caught more and more often in the past year. 

The memory of first hearing a voice she couldn't put a source to weighed heavily in Lydia's mind, especially of late. It had been at a holiday party put on by her father's employer. He'd been trying to impress his boss and both of Lydia's mothers had her on a short leash. She'd meant to be well-behaved, but Lydia kept hearing this voice say, "No, Sammy! No! Don't do this!"

Lydia pulled on her mother's elbow, avoided a casual swat, and pulled on her again. "Mommy!"

"What is it, Lydia?" she replied, her face wrinkled up with exasperation. "Now isn't the time for all of your questions!" Looking at the other guests, Mom put on a bright smile and laughed. "You know kids. Always curious."

"But Mommy, I heard a voice!"

Simpering, Mom told the guests, "Such an active imagination, too! I'll be right back." Then she guided Lydia away from the party with a tight, but not painful, grip on Lydia's wrist. When they reached a darker hallway, Mom crouched down so Lydia was looking down at her instead of up. "Lydia, honey, if your father doesn't get this promotion, I'm going to-" She cut herself off and frowned. "Well, it won't be good news for the family. I need you to go stand with your Mima and look perfect and pretty and not ask any more questions, alright?"

Always stubborn, Lydia replied, "But, Mommy, I heard something. It sounded like a scary movie on the TV, but it was happening right there in the room!"

"Lydia, I swear to god-" Mom dropped her head into one hand and massaged her temples. "I didn't hear anything. No one else heard anything. It was just your imagination, which means you can ignore it, okay?"

Lydia crossed her arms over her chest in response.

Mom scoffed and stood up. She put her arm around Lydia's shoulders and smiled as they moved back into and through the party until they got to Mima. Above her, Lydia watched Mom whisper in Mima's ear. Mima made a face, but she nodded and took Lydia's hand. This whole dance was old hat to Lydia by this point. Mima was the one who most often took care of Lydia when she wasn't in school, so Mom often dumped Lydia with Mima when she got sick of her.

Mima took Lydia away from the party without a word, leading her out to the garden, even though it was cold out. They sat on a bench and Mima said, "We're going to sit here until you can stop telling lies, Lydia."

"No we're not," Lydia replied, wrapping her arms around herself. "We're going to sit out here until one of you starts believing me."

Mima's eyes widened, which Lydia found really funny looking, given the thick eyeliner and mascara that Mima favored, because she thought it made her eyes look more green. Lydia thought it made her look kind of like a clown, especially compared to Mom's understated, but much more carefully crafted, look. "Lydia, for once, why can't you be a normal little girl? People don't like you when you're smart with them."

"But I have an IQ of 170. I'm smart." Lydia shifted to the edge of the bench and swung the toes of her shoes against the dirt.

Shaking her head, Mima said, "I'm not even going to ask how you found that out. But you know what? I don't like your Mom's friends. Is this something I tell them, or even your Mom? No. I fake it. I smile, and I don't say anything when they insult me for not having a career. I compliment them even when I think they don't deserve it. And they _love_ me for it."

"Why does that even matter?"

Mima put her arm around Lydia's shoulders, steady and warm. "Because, Ladybug, when everyone loves you, it's easier to get them to do what you want."

The significance of her Mima's words clicked in Lydia's mind and she smiled. She liked it when people did what she wanted. She wasn't so sure about accepting criticism like Mima did, because she knew Mom's friends didn't respect Mima the way they respected Mom. However, if Lydia could be as respected as Mom and as loved as Mima, she could have anyone wrapped around her little finger.

"I didn't hear anything. It was a joke."

"Good girl." Mima put a kiss on Lydia's head, her long, yellow hair brushing against one of Lydia's eyelashes as she drew away. 

Staring at the bottle on her nightstand, like it might move if she wasn't looking at it, Lydia knew she had to make the decision. Leaving decisions up in the air instead of making them was worse than making the wrong decision. She'd learned that from her father. After dicking his wives around for several long, unhappy years, he'd decided to leave the family and chase after some young couple who were barely older than Lydia. If he'd left when things first started going wrong, Lydia was sure she wouldn't hate him as much as she did.

So Lydia could take the pills and sleep, or she could stay up, listening for the voices she'd been pretending didn't exist since she was seven. She supposed the decision was predicated on another decision - which group of people she was trying to control. Was it "normal" people, or was it the group of werewolves and whatever-the-hell-elses that she'd fallen in with? 

Lydia might have considered the normal people of Beacon Hills a lost cause after her fugue state episode, but the proper application of well-placed compliments and criticisms, combined with sympathy over Jackson's departure and Lydia's renewed appreciation for casual sex, had all allowed her reputation and her power over the student body to as-good-as return to their pre-werewolf state. Of course, her pre-werewolf state had also included a heavy dose of ignorance-is-bliss. But ignorance and power were mutually exclusive. 

If Lydia wanted to influence situations to her advantage, she needed to know what was going on, even if it meant dealing with the death of someone close to her without chemical help. Even if it meant listening to the voices and enduring the sympathetic, and even suspicious, looks at school.

Lydia put the bottle of pills in her top dresser drawer, laid down on her bed, closed her eyes, and listened. She listened to the screams of terror and breathed through the onslaught, letting them wash over her. Lydia listened.

~*~

"Why can't we go to the fish place, again?" Dad asked, looking past Mima to Stiles, who was sitting in the far passenger seat. If Scott had been in the car, Stiles would have been sitting in the back with him, but now that it was just Stiles and his parents, he sat up front. There was only minimal snuggling on Mima and Dad's part, so Stiles could live with it. 

"Because that's where Scott's going on his date with Allison and Isaac," Stiles explained. "If we go embarrass him he'll never forgive us."

Dad smirked, but Mima smacked his arm. "Besides, you owe me cheesecake, Buster."

Stiles would ask what Dad owed Mima cheesecake for, but he seriously didn't want to know. Covering his ears, Stiles said, "Lalala," until Mima smacked him, too. "You know, you should see a therapist about your anger management issues," he told her, rubbing his arm.

Mima just rolled her eyes and Dad pulled through the intersection at the green light.

When they drove up to Rita's, a Beacon Hills local diner, Stiles could tell something was wrong. The lights inside the diner flickered and the front door was wide open. Stiles looked over at his dad, and saw him frowning. "Dad?"

"Yeah," he said, putting the car in park, even though they weren't in a designated spot. Without killing the engine, Dad slipped out of the car. "Stay here," he ordered both of them as he drew his gun and then moved slowly toward the diner.

"No," Mima said before calling out, "Stilinski! Get back here!"

Stiles scoffed. "When has that ever worked?"

"I know, right?" Mima put one hand up to her mouth, biting her thumb. Stiles wondered if her heart was beating just as fast as Stiles'.

Yeah, he needed to know what was going on in there. He needed to know what his dad was heading toward. Crazy guys with guns were bad enough, but these days Stiles had to worry about his dad running across crazy werewolves with claws, too. He undid his seatbelt and inched closer to the windshield, like that would help him see. Mima gripped Stiles' arm tightly.

"You're not going anywhere. Your dad told us to stay here."

"I just wanted to see," Stiles explained, gesturing toward the restaurant. Dad was about halfway there. A bright flash from inside the restaurant illuminated the place, but all Stiles could focus on was the red tint splashed across one of the windows. "Was that blood?"

Leaning over the shifter console, Mima called out the open car door, "John Stilinski, you get back here right now!"

Dad waved over his shoulder, but he didn't look back. He kept moving forward.

"This is bad," Stiles whispered, putting his hand over the one Mima clenched around his arm. "This is so bad. We should have told him."

"Yeah, I think-" BAM!

The loud sound of somebody slamming against Stiles' door made both Stiles and his mima shriek in fear. Bloody hands pressed against the glass and Stiles knew for a fact that he was about to die.

But then he made out the face behind the smeared blood. "Ms. Morell?"

"You need to get out of here," she said through the window, her eyes wide and frantic. "Go!"

"My dad," Stiles explained, pointing. Then he opened the door so he could talk to Ms. Morell without blood-smeared glass in the way. Ms. Morell was holding one arm close to her body and there was a large gash on her cheek, but otherwise she looked okay. "What's going on?"

"Kali," Ms. Morell explained, leaning to the side to glance past Stiles and look Mima up and down. "She killed Deucalion and the power rush overwhelmed her. I can't get her to calm down. She's trying to kill everything in sight!"

Stiles shook his head. "Wait. What? Since when is wrangling alpha werewolves part of your job description? You're the _guidance counselor_!"

"We're all more than we seem," Ms. Morell said, giving Stiles a significant look.

Fed up, Stiles told her, "You know, you're just like your brother when you say stupid, cryptic shit like that. While we're wasting time with talk, my dad keeps walking closer and closer to a psychotic alpha with roid-rage!" Stiles jumped out of the car, brushing past Ms. Morell. He called out as loud as he could, "Dad! Dad come back! It's not safe!"

The Sheriff paused. He didn't look back at Stiles, but he paused. That was good. Maybe his instincts would tell him what a bad idea moving forward would be.

"Yeah, come on. I've got a witness back here. She can tell you all about it!"

Mima slipped out of the car behind Stiles and grabbed onto his upper arm, but she didn't try to pull him away or anything. It felt more like she was getting ready to step in front of him if she needed to, even though he was almost seventeen and way taller than her now. 

Across the parking lot, Stiles' dad took a step back. Stiles couldn't see around the Sheriff very well, but he thought he caught a hint of movement. Dad took a step back. Then another. And then he started shuffling backward more quickly. Soon, he was flat-out running toward Stiles and Mima.

Beyond his dad, Stiles saw a shape step out into the lights of the parking lot. Its head barely cleared the top of the diner doorway and its shoulders sat high behind its head. Its eyes glowed red and its fangs were longer than Stiles had ever seen on a werewolf. Keeping his eyes trained on the werewolf, Stiles spoke sideways at Ms. Morell. "That's Kali?"

"Uh-huh," she said, and she sounded breathless. Stiles didn't take that as a good sign.

"Everyone back in the car!" The Sheriff called as Kali growled and dropped down onto all fours before loping at them in giant strides.

So clumsily he felt like he should punch himself in the face, Stiles pushed Mima back into the car. He opened the back door for Ms. Morell and then called out to his dad, "Hurry up!"

The Sheriff wasn't going to make it! He was going to get eaten by a werewolf and Stiles was sure this was his fault somehow. He should have agreed to embarrassing Scott on his date.

But then a thought occurred to Stiles. He'd been able to keep Kali from killing Boyd. Surely he'd be able to save his own parents. Stiles concentrated as hard as he could and tried to push Kali back. "Stop!" he cried.

It didn't work.

Stiles held out his hand, "I said STOP!"

Kali kept coming.

"Stiles, get in the car!" Dad yelled as he reached the driver's side and dove in, slamming the door shut behind him.

Third time had to be the charm, right?

Mima shouted this time, pulling on Stiles' arm. "Stiles!"

"Just stop!"

Kali ran into the driver's side of the car so hard it skidded a few feet, making Stiles stumble and dance out of the way, a numb patch on his leg where the car's frame hit him. Stiles couldn't do it. He couldn't stop her. They were all going to die.

Out of the corner of his eye, Stiles saw Ms. Morell jump out of the car and throw her arm up. A plume of black dust flew up and landed around them, and the car, in a perfect, closed circle. Kali came toward them for a second attack, but bounced away with a bright flash of light.

"Mountain Ash," Stiles realized out loud as Kali tried the barrier again before growling and running away. He turned toward Ms. Morell, "You really are like your brother, aren't you?"

Ms. Morell shrugged. "Sometimes it runs in families."

"And other times?" Stiles asked, thinking about the night he'd completed his own Mountain Ash circle.

"Other times…" She smiled as she patted his cheek. "...the supernatural gets close to you, gets inside you, and you find the strength to meet it."

Nodding, Stiles looked over to where his parents were holding onto each other. Mima still looked terrified, but in this resigned sort of way. Dad looked more confused than anything else. "I-I didn't have the strength. If you hadn't been here, we'd all be dead. I couldn't- I wasn't strong."

"I think one day you will be," Ms. Morell said with a final smile. Then she stepped over the Mountain Ash circle and ran off, following after Kali. 

Stiles gave his parents a shaky smile and pulled his phone from his pocket. "Yeah, Scott? We've got a problem."

~*~

When Scott and Allison arrived at Rita's, the place was crazy with rescue personnel. Most of whom knew him as one of the Sheriff's sons. After the third time one of the firefighters ruffled his hair in passing, Allison laughed. Scott blushed, but he smiled back at her, too.

The sight of Stiles sitting in an ambulance wiped the smile off Scott's face. He rushed over there, the whole time thinking he was stupid for going out on a date when people were getting killed again. “What happened to you?” Scott demanded, climbing up into the ambulance. Allison stood a few feet away from the ambulance, giving them some privacy. “Is it bad?”

“Chill, dude,” Stiles said, holding up a hand as if to placate Scott and then pointing to one of his legs, which had an ice pack sitting on top of it. “I just bruised my shin. Nothing to get worked up over.”

Scott nodded, but he still needed to reach out and put a hand on Stiles' shoulder to make sure he was still there, and alive. "I can't help but get worked up, Stiles. You're my _brother_. My Mom and Dad were both here, too. Kali could have taken my whole family from me, just like that!"

"If it makes you feel any better," Stiles said, picking at his fingernails, "she's probably out there killing someone _else's_ family, so..."

Scott shoved Stiles' shoulder. "Yeah, it really doesn't." Scott looked out at where his Mom and Dad were talking to each other, their heads bent close together.

"Can you hear what they're saying?"

"It's hard with this much other noise," Scott told Stiles, but he knew his parents' voices better than almost any others.

"...not sure _what_ I saw. Some sort of hallucinogenic gas could have caused-"

"Darling," Mom interrupted. "No hallucinogen could explain the blood on the car. Or in the diner. That monster, that _werewolf_ , was real."

Dad frowned at Mom before asking, "Why aren't you freaking out? How long have you known?"

"Since the station that night. When that boy who held a gun on us. After you were knocked out, things got really weird."

Dad tightened his arms across his chest. "What do you mean, weird?"

Mom looked around and met Scott's eyes before waving him over. Turning to Stiles, Scott told him, "I have to go over there."

Scrunching up his nose in a wince, Stiles said, "Yeah, I think he knows now."

"He doesn't know about me." Scott waved back to his mom and sighed. "What if he shoots me?"

"He won't shoot you." Punching Scott in the shoulder, Stiles added, "Now, if _I_ was the one who'd been turned into a werewolf, Dad might shoot _me_ , but you're, like, the favorite. You're golden."

Scott rolled his eyes. "I'm not Dad's favorite. Dad doesn't have favorites."

"Yeah? What do you call that month I had to wash the cruiser every other day, and you only had to do the dishes?"

With a grin, Scott clapped his hand down onto Stiles' uninjured leg a few times and said, "That was the punishment fitting the crime. It wasn't _my_ idea to set the shed on fire." With that, Scott jumped out of the ambulance and took a deep breath for courage. He gave Allison a smile, but gestured for her to stay put. This was a talk he had to have with his Dad alone.

As he started walking, Stiles' voice followed Scott. "It was just a little singed, and in my defense, it did look really awesome!"

When Scott reached his parents, Mom nodded over at Stiles and asked, "He bringing up the shed incident again?"

"Yeah." Scott nodded, giving his mom half a smile before facing his father. "Um, hi. You okay?"

"I will be once someone tells me what's going on," Dad said in his cop-voice. It reminded Scott of all the times Dad tried to get the truth out of him and his brother, and of the fact that Scott was the worst liar ever. Stiles wasn't even that good. Not when Dad could just look at you and tell you were hiding something. It was a miracle Dad hadn't found out before.

Scott checked with his mom, who gave him an encouraging nod, before he took a deep breath and said all in a rush, "Werewolves are real and I'm kind of one of them."

Dad's frown deepened. He shifted his stance and stared at Scott for just a second too long. "What do you mean, 'kind of'?"

"I am," Scott corrected, drawing himself up so he wouldn't look like he was lying. It was funny how all of Stiles' coaching of Scott's body language (he'd found some of Dad's books) so that Scott wouldn't be the one to give away their secret plans, only came in handy when Scott wanted people to know he was telling the truth. "Dad, I'm a werewolf."

"You're a werewolf."

Silent with the fear that once he admitted to being different than the son the Sheriff thought he had, he would be thrown out into the streets, Scott nodded.

"Two hours ago, I wouldn't have believed you." Dad winced and held his breath, like he was waiting for Scott to explode. "Yeah, I'm still not sure I believe it."

Scott looked around to make sure people weren't watching, and turned his back to everyone except his dad. Then he held his hand flat to his chest and let his claws extend. "Convincing enough?"

Dad gaped like a fish. "Y-yeah. That's pretty convincing." He reached out and tapped on one of Scott's claws. It felt weird, so Scott let them retract. "Okay, that's pretty messed up."

"I know," Scott said, looking down at his feet. "It's not like I _chose_ to be this way."

"Oh, Jeez," Dad huffed before stepping forward and pulling Scott into a tight hug. Dad gave great hugs anyway, but this one was particularly tight. "I thought this would go without saying, but I still love you, son. Even if you are a werewolf."

Scott let out a relieved laugh and nodded into his dad's shoulder.

When they parted, Dad kept his hand on Scott's shoulder. "Now, I'm not going to ask you any questions about things I really don't want to know the answers to, because I don't want to arrest my son."

Dad looked like he still had something to say, despite the pause, so Scott said, "Okay?"

"I _am_ going to ask you what the hell hurt the people in that diner, and how do I stop it?"

Scott shrugged a little. "I mean, she's an alpha werewolf. Her name is Kali. I guess she stole some powers from another alpha werewolf and went crazy? And I don't think you _can_ stop her, Dad. I mean, I've been shot and it only took a few-"

"You've been _shot_?" Dad grabbed Scott's arm tighter and pulled him closer in. "When? Who shot you?"

"Matt shot me. And Mr. Argent, actually, with an arrow," Scott replied, waving off Dad's concern. "Anyway, I'm fine. The point is, you can't go after Kali like she's just any criminal. Your bullets won't do anything to her. You have to let me and my friends take care of it."

Dad's eyes widened and he took a loud breath through his nose, like he was about to argue. But then he paused and held his breath before letting it out slowly. "Yeah, okay. After what happened last spring, most of my force is green. I wouldn't want to put them up against something like this. I really don't like it, because I'm supposed to be the one protecting you, _but_ we need to do whatever keeps the most people alive."

"That's what I'm trying to do, Dad," Scott insisted, meeting his father's eyes straight on and wondering when he finally got that tall. "And I'm not alone. Dr. Deaton knows about all of this. So does Allison's dad. He's a werewolf hunter."

"And he's on _your_ side, even though you...?" Dad gestured at Scott's hands.

Scott nodded. "He has a code. He only goes after werewolves who take innocent lives."

"Why don't I find that comforting?"

Chuckling, Scott toed at the ground with his shoe. 

"Well, I should get back," Dad said, stepping away from Scott a few feet. "You and your friends should wrap up all your werewolf business, because this _incident_? Is going to be the straw that broke the camel's back. I won't be able to keep the Feds away for any longer. They're going to come here and they're not gonna leave until I can give them a better explanation than 'werewolves'."

"Get Stiles to help you," Scott suggested, nodding back at where Stiles was sitting with Mom on the tailgate of the ambulance. Allison stood next to them, and all three were talking about something Scott couldn't quite make out without concentrating on their voices. "He's getting pretty good at cover stories."

"Why don't I find that comforting either?" Dad shook his head, clapped Scott on the shoulder a few more times, and left Scott to go talk to a few of his deputies.

Scott took in the sight of all of these people, all of these humans, dealing with the aftermath of a werewolf attack and a determination to protect all of them expanded in his chest. Scott could do this. He could stop Kali and other alphas and the Darach. He had to. There was no other choice.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles and Jen get some answers. Scott and his pack try to stop Kali's rampage.

Isaac didn't remember feeling this much like a pack since spring, but he wasn't a part of Derek's pack anymore. Ever since he'd fallen in love with Scott, and then Boyd and Erica tried to leave Derek, Isaac had been shifting his allegiance more and more to Scott's pack. So searching Beacon Hills for Kali felt familiar, but weird. Like that one time Isaac went back to his elementary school during freshman year. Everything felt smaller.

"Do you think we should maybe split up?" Isaac asked Derek, who hadn't said much all night. But it wasn't like he was acting weird. Derek rarely said all that much on a good day.

Derek didn't answer Isaac, but Cora did. "We shouldn't. Deaton said she's even stronger than Deucalion and pissed off. None of us would survive alone." Cora paused for half a second before asking, "Right, Derek?"

"Right," he agreed distractedly, his eyes on the horizon. Well, that was totally normal Derek behavior, too. Wasn't it?

Isaac followed as Derek led the way through town, following the trail of destruction and mayhem. Beside him, Boyd said, "There's no way the authorities are going to miss this. What, do we say it was a tornado?" Boyd paused for a moment, and when no one answered him, he asked, "Derek?"

"Hmm?" Derek replied, not turning his head to look at Boyd. He seemed to be focusing on something intently, so Isaac followed Derek's line of sight, but he couldn't see anything.

"You hear something?" Isaac asked. 

Derek didn't answer; he just kept moving forward. Isaac found nothing comforting about his behavior. It was _Allison_ who was being paranoid, wasn't it? Not Isaac. 

But then a thought occurred to Isaac. "Where's Peter? Shouldn't he be helping? Why does he get to be alone?"

"He left town," Cora said, jumping up onto a garbage can and then the roof of a building. Isaac followed.

"What do you mean he left town? Why would he go now, when we need everyone we can get?"

Shrugging, Cora jumped to the next building over, her eyes ahead of them on Derek, who was still at street level and several dozen yards ahead of them. "He had business that couldn't wait. It's not like he'd be much help, anyway."

"True," Isaac agreed, jumping down into a roll when the building ran out and they had to scamper across a few parking lots and a road to keep up with Derek. "It's probably good he's gone. I always get the feeling he's plotting something, I don't know, _evil_."

Cora chuckled and shook her head as they jogged forward, meeting up with Boyd. A sound prickled at the edge of Isaac's hearing and the others turned that way as well. As they moved, Cora told Isaac in a steady, almost dismissive voice, "Peter is just Peter. He said he'd be back soon."

Isaac wasn't great at telling if people were lying or not. Not using his werewolf hearing, anyway. But he knew what it looked like when a man had dark thoughts under a charming exterior, and what his casual insults really meant. And now Peter had fled town? That seemed suspicious.

And suddenly, Isaac wasn't so sure that Allison was seeing things where Derek was concerned. What if Peter had done something to him and Cora was so blinded by the old memories she had of her uncle that she couldn't see it?

"Kali's moving too fast. We're gonna lose her," Boyd growled, thumping Isaac on the back and taking Cora's hand, pulling her forward into a faster run. Isaac dropped down onto all fours so he could keep up.

~*~

Jen noticed the way her leg bounced and consciously stopped it, pulling her thumbnail from between her teeth and standing up. Derek's apartment felt far too quiet while she was the only one in it. Cora had said, "You'll be safe here, and if the alarm goes off, just hide." Derek hadn't said anything, though he had given her a half-hearted wave.

The wave had convinced her that this Derek wasn't the Derek she knew. He wasn't the man she'd - oh, shit - the man she'd fallen in love with. And Cora was out there with him. She'd been apart from her brother so long that she couldn't recognize that something was very, very wrong.

Jen had read so many books in her lifetime, that the list of possibilities as far as what had changed Derek was just about endless in her mind. Especially since the impossible was coming true lately. Jen had been given something to drink, and then she'd seen inside another person's head. She'd been in his awful, awful memories when he died. Nothing was impossible.

Add to that all the voices Jen heard, no longer muted by the lack of antipsychotics in her system, and Jen felt like laughing until she cried.

_Don't let her…_ a woman's voice whispered in Jen's ear, making her tense up. It had happened enough times over the past few weeks that Jen managed not to scream, but it was a near thing.

"What?" she asked, turning around, but seeing no one. "Don't let who do what?"

The voice replied, but Jen couldn't make out any words. When garbled words devolved into a broken moan, Jen decided she had to get out of there.

"Yeah, okay. I'll try my best. Bye." Shoving her feet into her shoes, Jen hurried to the elevator and took it down to the ground floor. She found herself surprised that her car was still waiting for her, like she'd expected Derek to take it for her own good. 

_...good boy…_

Jen shivered. The voice whispered in her ear, but it still sounded like it was coming from so very far away. She started the car and drove.

And then she realized she had no plan for where she was driving to. It was late and almost everything would be closed, and there was a dangerous werewolf on the loose. "Well, Jen," she said to herself, drumming her thumbs on the steering wheel. "What do you want?"

"I want to not be talking to myself," she answered with a huff, pulling away from the light when it turned green. "I want a taco."

Jen realized she wasn't thinking big enough. She did want to feel safe, but most of all, she wanted answers.

She couldn't go to Derek for answers, and Derek's sister had called all the other werewolves to come help them track down Kali. The only person left who Jen knew was involved was Stiles. 

Pulling over, Jen pulled out her phone and looked up Stiles' address. At the beginning of the year, she'd pulled the addresses of all her students as well as their phone numbers, because she'd had grand plans of sending out individualized feedback and encouragements. That plan had fallen by the wayside when she started losing time. 

Stiles actually lived not too far away, in a neighborhood not too far from the high school. Jen drove there and parked on the street. Jen realized that she didn't have a cover story to speak of if Stiles' parents answered the door, so she paused two steps away from her car, giving herself time to think of one.

"Ow! Son of a-" a voice said, off to the side of the house. Jen would have thought that she was hearing another voice, another person from beyond the grave, except the bushes shivered. 

"Who's there?" Jen asked in a loud whisper, hoping it wasn't a burglar or a rapist or something. She readied the mace on her keychain (even if it was useless against werewolves, as she'd discovered), and adopted what she thought looked like a tough stance. 

"Fuck," the voice said softly. It sounded male, young, and almost familiar. Louder, it called, "It's just me, Mima. Don't use the bat." And then Stiles stumbled out of the bushes. He stopped short. "You're not my mima."

"No," Jen said, noticing the way Stiles had all of his weight on one of his legs and a sprig of leaves caught in his hair. "Were you sneaking out?"

Stiles looked around, his eyes shifting back and forth a few times before they met hers. He nodded.

"But-"

Holding up a placating hand, Stiles cut her off. "I know." He pointed to the leg he wasn't resting his weight on. "Dude, I _know_. But I couldn't just _sit_ while everyone else goes after her." Raising an eyebrow he asked, "What are _you_ doing here?"

Jen looked down at her hands and gave a humorless laugh. "The same thing, actually. I don't know who else to…"

Limping, Stiles walked toward Jen. "C'mon. I do know. And it's about time he started giving us some answers. You're driving."

"Oh-kay," Jen said, a little weirded out to be taking orders from one of her students. But hell, Stiles seemed to know more about what was going on than she did. And if he knew where to get the answers Jen needed, she might as well play along. Besides, his confidence made Jen feel like maybe things weren't so bad.

After a few minutes of driving, Stiles cleared his throat and asked, "So, you're pretty close to Derek, right?"

Jen couldn't see what angle Stiles had behind the question, if any, so she answered truthfully. "Yeah, I guess. I haven't known him very long. Why?"

"I just-" Stiles said, hiking his uninjured leg up onto his seat and tapping his fingers on his knee. "I- and it's not just me – I noticed that he's not acting like his usual self."

A slice of unease flared through Jen's chest, but she didn't want to jump on whatever Stiles was trying to get at with this conversation and make a fool of herself. "I-I didn't notice anything," she lied.

"He's been distracted or something lately," Stiles insisted. "I mean, I know he's not normally _talkative_ or anything, but usually you can tell he's paying attention to what's going on." Stiles paused and gnawed on the edge of his jacket for a moment. Jen tried not to watch him too much as she drove, but her eyes kept drawing back to the way he worried at the jacket, like a nervous puppy. Spitting out the fabric, Stiles added, "I mean, it's like half the time he doesn't even respond to what you're saying, and then he's like _surprised_ to see you there."

"Maybe," Jen said, her voice sticking in her throat as she pulled up to a red light. "Maybe I've seen that. I- maybe."

"It's creepy, right? The lights are on, but nobody's home. Oh," Stiles dropped his leg to the floor, leaned forward, and pointed, "turn up there."

"Maybe he's just not..." Jen tried to think of how to word this delicately. "...well. Maybe he's not well. There has been a lot of, um, _excitement_ lately."

"No, I don't think that's it." Stiles leaned his head against the window. "Believe it or not, we've seen something like it here before. When Derek's uncle, Peter, was controlling Lydia from beyond the grave."

"So, what?" Jen asked, taking the next turn when Stiles pointed it out. "You think Derek's possessed?" Jen laughed, but even to her ears it sounded strained.

"Or otherwise being messed with, yeah," Stiles said, pointing again. "This is it." Jen pulled her car into the parking lot of a veterinary clinic. As Jen turned off her engine, she asked, "Really?"

"Oh yeah," he said with a smirk and a nod. "Believe me, the irony does not escape me."

As they got out of the car, Stiles wincing, Jen frowned. "You do realize that this isn't actually an example of irony, right?"

"Oh, my god." Stiles laughed, hopping on one foot for a few feet before settling into a rolling limp as he led the way toward the vet clinic. "Can you not be my English teacher for, like, five seconds?"

"Kind of comes with the territory," Jen replied, hurrying forward to help Stiles. She put herself under his arm and stood up, taking some of his weight. When Jen's hand brushed Stiles', a sharp zap of electricity stung her. "Ouch."

"Serves you right for trying to help," Stiles said, his voice soft and without conviction, his eyes focused on the clinic ahead. Jen half expected him to pull away, but he didn't. Instead, he readjusted his arm and leaned a little bit more of his weight onto her. It wasn't much weight (hell, the boy probably weighed less than her, soaking wet), and it wasn't more than she could handle in her not-quite-well state. It felt nice, to be helping for a change. 

When they got to the door, Stiles lifted his fist and banged on it. The sound reverberated loudly through the whole office park. Stiles met Jen's eyes, gave her a little hug with the arm around her shoulders and said, "Now we wait to see if the Doc is in." 

Jen looked at Stiles – really _studied_ him – and saw the dark circles under his eyes. She saw the crease between his brows and along the contour of his forehead, etched into his skin too early. She saw the way his smile only brought up one side of his mouth and how it didn't touch his eyes. Jen saw a young man more clever, and much more world-weary than his years, and it scared her. 

It scared her because she liked clever, cynical men – she always had – and she liked the way Stiles' arm felt oddly comfortable around her shoulders. But Stiles wasn't even seventeen yet. He was a _child_. Jen looked away from Stiles and through the glass of the veterinarian's door.

A figure approached from the other side and a man with dark skin opened the door. "Stiles? Are you...?"

"Fine," Stiles said, taking his arm from around Jen's shoulders and limping past the man under his own power. "Haven't heard from your sister tonight, have you, Dr. Deaton?"

"I was just prepping..." Dr. Deaton gave Jen an assessing look, his eyebrows high on his forehead. "...supplies. In case there are casualties I need to treat. Do you-?" He pointed to Stiles' leg. 

"It's fine." Stiles adjusted his gate as he walked further into the building, like he was trying to hide his limp.

"Are you okay as well?"

It took Jen a moment to realize Dr. Deaton was talking to her. "Yeah," she assured him. "Yeah, I'm fine." When she realized she had a hand pressed to her bitten side, she let her arms drop down.

“Okay, here’s the thing,” Stiles started out, leaning against one of the counters with his weight shifted toward his uninjured leg. “I need more information than ‘oh you could be strong one day’ and ‘people can magnify’ this thing that I have. I need to know when and where I can depend on this thing. I almost _died_. My parents almost _died_! You have to explain.”

“Some things can’t be explained,” Dr. Deaton said, and even Jen had to scoff.

Deaton looked at her, his eyebrows raised. Jen shrugged. “I mean we, as a species, have found the words to describe everything imaginable, every feeling we’ve ever come across, and maybe those feelings are _difficult_ to put into words, but at least some of the authors out there have done it.”

Stiles grinned and Deaton smirked. “Maybe I have the words,” he replied. “But I’m choosing not to use them.”

“Maybe that’s a cop-out,” Jen replied back. She crossed her arms over her chest. “I hear voices. I was in the room when one person tore another person’s head _off_ of his body. I’m not in the mood for cop-outs or excuses. And believe me, I’m a high school teacher. I’ve heard them _all_.”

Scratching his chin with one hand, Deaton hummed. Then he nodded. “Alright. I can see you won’t take no for an answer.” He leaned against an exam table, his forearms taking his weight. Letting out a big breath, Deaton began to speak. “It is said there are three planes of existence. This plane, the one we’re on right now; the underworld or afterlife; and the in-between.”

“Orpheus,” Jen breathed, thinking about the conversation she and Deucalion had on the day that he bit her. 

Attention drawn by her utterance, Deaton met Jen’s eyes and nodded. “There are legends throughout history of heroes who could move back and forth between these planes of existence. What is often excluded from these legends are stories about the people _here_ who embody these planes. Werewolves aren’t just men who are also wolves, they’re also _alive_ to a greater degree than men. They see better, hear better, run faster, and heal so quickly it’s very difficult to kill them.

“And then there are people in touch with the dead.” Deaton gave Jen a significant look, which made her gulp nervously. “People who can literally hear the thoughts and sighs and screams of souls who have passed on to the underworld.”

Jen watched Stiles look back and forth between her and Deaton, his eyebrows high in surprise. “Seriously?" Deaton nodded gravely. "These people who can speak to the dead have been given many names, but the one I've heard most oft-"

"Mediums," Jen interrupted. "Deucalion called me a Medium."

Deaton paused for a moment, looking down as he nodded. He sighed. "Deucalion knew what you are. He would have known you were immune to his bite."

"Then why the hell did he bite me?" Jen cried, leaning her weight back against the wall. "Why did he have to do that?"

"To create a connection." Stiles said. Deaton turned to look at Stiles, his eyebrows high with surprise. As if in response to the question Deaton hadn't asked, Stiles shrugged. "Lydia's the same. She hears voices, she's immune to the bite, Peter used his connection with her to bring himself back from the dead."

"A very concerning development," Deaton said with a nod. He crossed to the side of the room and pulled a vial of purple powder from the cabinet. Most of the vial was empty. "He had her steal most of my wolfsbane to make it happen. I've sent out for more, but..."

"Is that what Deucalion did to me? Is he going to come back?" Jen stuck the tip of her thumb between her teeth.

"No. I don't think so," Deaton replied. "For one, Kali removed his head, causing an injury that's impossible for even werewolves to heal."

"That's why Kate Argent cut Derek's sister in half. Laura. So she wouldn't come back." Stiles took another step closer, standing between Jen and the exam table. His presence in front of Jen felt almost warm.

Deaton nodded. "And for two, Deucalion's attempt didn't take. It backfired. He'll never be in your head the way Peter Hale was with Lydia."

Silence settled over the three of them for a moment, during which Jen thought about how awful it was that Derek had lost his sister that way. Jen had as-good-as lost her brother to drugs. She wondered how much of his problems had been because of this talking to the dead. And she wanted to ask Deaton why Deucalion's plan for her had backfired, but mostly she was so glad it did, she wasn't interested in knowing the details.

Breaking the silence, Stiles trained his attention solely on Deaton. "What about the last one? That in-between place. Does that have specific people, too?"

"Yes." Deaton gave Stiles a significant look.

Pointing to his own chest, Stiles asked, "Me? But I'm just- How?"

"What's the most powerful force in the world?" Deaton asked, and Jen recognized the leading question for what it was – a teaching technique.

Stiles shook his head and shrugged. "I don't know. Money?"

Jen side-eyed him as she stepped closer to the table, standing next to him. Sure, money was important, but it wasn't the be all and end all of human existence. Clearing her throat, Jen gave her own answer. "Love."

"Love," Stiles repeated softly, giving Jen a long look, his brows drawing together slightly. Then his gaze cut away, finding Dr. Deaton after a moment. 

Deaton gave a single nod. "Love. It's a great amount of power we give away when we love someone. The universe takes notice."

"Yeah, but _everyone_ loves someone. Not everyone can do what you do." Stiles shuffled some of his weight and he ended up a little closer to Jen. She pretended his proximity didn't feel so comforting. And actually, once she started pretending, the pressure of the feeling dissapated a little.

"Not everyone has bonds of love with both a werewolf and a Medium," Deaton pointed out. "That's the important distinction. And, your ties to both your brother and to Lydia are important parts of the equation, but it's your lasting love for someone who has passed on that makes you belong In Between."

"My mother," Stiles breathed, bringing his hand up and rubbing his face with it.

"You were very close to her. Maybe even saw her die?"

Jen hated Deaton in that moment, because Stiles' eyes teared up and he picked at his lower lip with his hand. But then he nodded. "I was the only one there. I held her hand and I watched her stop breathing. My dad was– he was at work. Mima, too."

"That's all being a Druid is, Stiles. Circumstance, love, and _belief_. Don't you feel it? How you've been In-Between since her death?" Deaton seemed a little excited, like he was finally getting to tell his side of the story, but Jen saw how close those tears in Stiles' eyes were to falling.

Jen took Stiles' hand. The warmth she'd been feeling from standing next to him grew five fold and crawled up Jen's arm. The sensation felt strange, but not frightening or unwelcome. Stiles smiled at her. Deaton's eyes flicked to their clasped hands, but he didn't say anything about it.

Looking up at Deaton as he brushed a tear away with his free hand, Stiles said to Deaton, "Your sister told me this-this Druid thing sometimes runs in families. She-"

"Sometimes," Deaton replied, gently cutting Stiles off. "Mostly we share this gift because we both loved someone who was a werewolf, and someone who died."

"What about the Medium?" Jen asked. "Did you know someone like, well, like me?"

"People like you are few and far between," Deaton said. "But my mother did know someone. She had us meet him, once. I shook his hand, and that was all it took. I like to think," Deaton quirked up one side of his mouth, "that Mother loved him deeply enough for all of us."

Jen squeezed Stiles' hand and then released it. The air was cold in comparison. She put both her hands on the exam table and leaned forward, addressing Deaton. "So, we all know what we are. Now what? I just wait for ghosts to tell me something useful?"

"I want to get better at this." Stiles leaned forward on the table, too. "I want to be able to protect my parents. I want to be able to _rely_ on whatever it can do."

"What you can do is predicated on belief, Stiles. You have to believe in the things you want to make true," said Deaton.

Jen scoffed. "If wishes were fishes..."

Shrugging with one shoulder, Dr. Deaton added, "However, to really make things happen, you need to cause an intersection of all three planes of existence – warp them to your will."

"Wait, really?" Stiles asked, an open-mouthed smile spreading across his face. "How?"

Deaton paused for a moment before grabbing three small containers from the counter and setting them on the exam table in a line. He pointed to the center one. "This is you. You're In-Between. You're also the focus."

"Sounds like a fun night." Stiles smirked and winked at Jen, which made Jen amused and unsettled at the same time. He was a child!

Deaton stared down Stiles' smile before continuing. He pointed to the jar on his left, "This is a werewolf, someone extra-alive to anchor you here and keep the other planes from pulling you back with them."

"Scott." Stiles said with a sharp nod.

"Doesn't have to be," Deaton replied. At Stiles' surprised expression, Deaton continued, "While bonds of love are helpful when doing a spell, make it stronger, a bond of friendship will do. When you saved Boyd, who were you holding onto? Was it Scott and Lydia?"

Stiles shook his head. "It was Cora, and-" He turned to look at Jen. She didn't remember much of that night, but she remembered being near Stiles when Kali was tossed away from Boyd. "And you."

Wrapping her arms around herself, Jen asked, "So my role is what? Holding Stiles' hand while he thinks up whatever amazing feats he wants to do?" Jen probably let a little more disdain into her voice than she intended.

"No," Dr. Deaton said, holding his hand out in a placating gesture. "No. All three of you..." He pushed the three jars close together in a cluster. "...need to be imagining the same goal. It's the combined force of will that causes the spell to happen. What the Medium does is pull," Deaton made a grasping motion with his fist, "the underworld up, drawing on its energy. Or, if that's not your style, you can make friends with souls on the other side and convince them to send you the power, to channel it through you and to the focal point. The Druid." Deaton tapped on the lid of one jar, his eyes on Stiles.

"Can we use this to stop what's happening right now?" Jen asked, breaking the staring contest between Stiles and Dr. Deaton. "To stop Kali?"

Shaking his head and frowning, Deaton said, "I doubt it. Usually working together takes a minimum amount of practice. To do the kind of spells that would stop an aberration like what Kali has become would take _years_ of practice. That you stopped her before was miracle."

Stiles' face fell, but Jen felt relieved. As much as she wanted to help and as much as she wanted people to be safe from Kali, doing it herself was above and beyond what she felt ready for. If she'd been able to help, she would have told herself to grow up and just do it, but not being able to follow through was like being let off the hook. 

"So how _are_ we going to stop her?" Stiles took a step back, his weight still off center, and crossed his arms over his chest. " _Pray_?"

"We trust Scott." Deaton gave this benevolent smile that made Jen want to kick him in the shin or something. What was one teenager going to do against a woman who could just rip people's heads off?

~*~

“Hey, Danny,” Lydia said, giving Danny’s mother a grateful wave as she left them alone at the front door. “I kind of need your help.”

Danny eyed Lydia a little suspiciously, and Lydia could understand why. She hadn’t ever come to visit him at his house before. They were only friends because of Jackson, and without him around, their relationship was shaky at best. Of course Lydia _liked_ Danny. Who didn’t, really? But after he’d broken up with her and Jackson, she hadn’t had much use for him, up until now. It was an attitude Lydia now regretted. 

“What do you need?” Danny dropped his arms from where they’d been crossed over his chest. 

Taking that as a sign he was open to suggestion, despite Lydia knocking on his door after 9 o’clock on a school night, Lydia got right to the point. “I need Ethan’s phone number.”

Danny rolled his eyes and scoffed. “Was that it? You could’ve just texted me.”

“Well, I wasn’t sure you’d-“ Lydia huffed. “Aiden was weird about giving out his number. I thought maybe Ethan would be the same.”

“They’re- They _were_ different people,” Danny said, pulling his phone out of his pocket. He sighed as he thumbed at it for a moment. He hit one final button and then put it back in his pocket. Lydia’s phone chimed. “You’re finally going to talk to him about what happened to his brother?”

“Yeah,” Lydia said distractedly as she checked her phone to make sure she’d gotten the information. “I- Do you know how Ethan’s doing?”

Shrugging, Danny said, “Not really. I’ve seen him once since then. He apologized for not being able to stay more than a few minutes and told me to ‘keep safe’, whatever that means.”

Lydia felt the tears welling up in her eyes, so she jutted out her chin and pressed her tongue to the backs of her teeth, like that would help. She looked up, willing the tears to just go right back where they’d come from, thank you very much.

“Shit,” Danny said softly, moving forward and pulling Lydia into a warm hug. “I’m sorry.”

Damn it, now Lydia _had_ to cry. There was just no avoiding it in the face of such selfless sympathy. “It’s fine,” she tried to say, her voice sticking in her throat.

After a silent moment in which Lydia let herself cry and then pulled her composure back around herself, Danny told her, “If there was anything I could do to bring him back, I would.”

“I know. I didn’t even _like_ him that much and look at me!” Lydia laughed and carefully dabbed away the tears with her jacket sleeve, trying not to smear her makeup. 

Danny gave Lydia a soft smile and whispered, “Liar.”

It made her laugh, and Lydia pushed on one of Danny’s biceps. “Why do you have to be mono? It’s not fair.”

“If I was attracted to any girl,” Danny insisted. “It would be you, Lydia.”

“See!” she cried, though a smile tugged her lips upward. “That’s what I’m talking about! Keeping all that charm for the boys. So unfair!”

Danny laughed and put one hand on the still-open door. “Good night, Lydia.”

“Night.” Lydia gave Danny a parting wave and flounced down the walkway toward where she’d parked her car in Danny’s driveway. She got in and was just reaching for her seatbelt when Scott popped up from the back seat.

“You got it?”

Holding a hand to her chest, Lydia replied, “Yeah, but I lost my heart when you scared it right out of me! I think you’re taking this creature of the night bit too seriously.”

Scott rolled his eyes and said, “Please, just give me the phone and start driving. I’ll talk to Ethan.”

“And tell him what, exactly? That his werewolf friend is painting the town red? I think he already knows.”

“He’s the last one left,” Scott insisted. “I can give Ethan what he’s looking for. A pack.”

Turning on the car and backing out of the driveway, Lydia insisted, “ _You’re_ not an alpha. You don’t have a pack to give.”

“Of course I have a pack. Just ... most of them aren’t werewolves.” Scott’s voice was a little tense. Defensive almost, like he didn’t like Lydia pointing out that he wasn’t quite up to par. 

Lydia didn’t want to keep poking at Scott, because it felt like it might damage his adorableness, but lives were on the line here. Feelings couldn’t exactly be spared. “Didn’t Ethan kidnap Ms. Blake and try to kill Boyd? How can you just forget those things and invite him into your pack?”

“I know he’s not really like that,” Scott insisted. “And besides, Isaac and Derek and everyone tried to kill _you_ , but we still-“

“Yeah, about that...”

“I’m calling now,” Scott told her, a playful warning in his voice.

Lydia drove. She drove and she tried not to feel too jealous of Allison and Isaac.

~*~

Ethan agreed to meet with them, which Scott counted as a win. It was half the battle anyway, wasn’t it? Getting your foot in the door? The others were still out tracking down Kali, but Scott met Ethan at the school. Eyes glowing red as he stepped out of the shadows, Ethan asked, "So what's your big plan?"

"All of us working together to stop Kali," Scott told him. 

"Do we kill her?"

"Not if we can help it."

Ethan looked at Scott for a long time, a gaze which Scott met steadily. Scott may not have been an alpha, but he wasn't going to let that stop him from doing the right thing. Eventually, Ethan's shoulders sagged. Looking down, he told Scott, "I'm useless without my brother."

"No one's useless," Scott insisted, taking a careful step toward Ethan. "And Kali needs to be stopped. You care about her right?"

Ethan nodded carefully, slowly like he was revealing a secret.

"Than would you rather be part of a team who can stop her, or leave her to the mercy of the hunters who are going to track her down? She's not exactly being _subtle_."

"She's really not." Ethan chuckled humorlessly. "Fine. I'm in. But I'm not-"

Scott waited a second for Ethan to continue and when he didn't, Scott asked, "What?"

"I'm not taking orders from _Derek_."

Thinking about how odd Derek had been acting lately, Scott figured Ethan's caveat was probably for the best. "Okay. Fine. C'mon," Scott nodded toward the parking lot, where Lydia and her car were waiting for him. "Anything you can think of that we could use to calm Kali down? Any memories?"

Ethan shrugged. "All the good memories that I know about were with Deucalion and Ennis."

"Oh. They were...?" Scott trailed off. He didn't know why he hadn't seen it before. Kali, Deucalion, and Ennis had been a triad. He wondered if that made Ethan and Aiden kind of like their kids.

"Yeah," Ethan said. "But then we came here and everything went wrong."

Scott frowned as they approached the car. He paused a few feet away from it and asked. "So why did you come here?"

Ethan gave Scott a long look, but he didn't answer. Instead, he approached Lydia's car and got into the backseat. Scott shrugged. He guessed he wasn't going to get an answer to that question.

So, Scott got in the car and called Isaac. "Did you find her?" he asked as soon as Isaac answered. Scott hoped Isaac was being careful. They'd barely started this relationship and already Scott couldn't bear the thought of losing Isaac.

"She's terrorizing the bowling alley," Isaac said, his voice laced with something like weary amusement. His tone changed, though, when he said, "Derek won't let us go in to get the last few people out."

"Why not?"

"He says he's waiting for you."

Shit. Scott turned to Lydia and told her, "The bowling alley, as quick as you can get us there."

As they drove, Scott tried to keep himself from calling Allison to check on her. After she and Scott escorted Stiles and Scott's mom home, Allison dropped Scott off at Lydia's. Before she let Scott out of the car, she'd said, "I promise, I'll keep in touch with Isaac. But I _have_ to tell my dad what's going on."

"I thought he was retired," Scott tried to argue, but Allison cut him off with a shake of her head. "He's not as retired as he likes to say." Allison smiled, but her eyebrows drew together. "He's been trying to figure out the Darach. He says he's not, but I know what it looks like when he's working a case."

Scott nodded and leaned forward, pressing his forehead to Allison's. "Promise you and your dad will hold back?"

Allison jutted out her chin. "Scott. We can't let her win."

"I'm not asking for that," Scott insisted. "I'm just asking you to stay back. Stay safe. Only come closer if you really need to."

"Did you ask the same of Isaac?" Allison's voice was tense, pissed off, but she didn't pull away. She left her forehead, warm and a little moist with the humid air, pressed against Scott's. 

"You heard me tell him to be careful," Scott insisted, giving Allison his best smile. "I know you heard me. It's the same, Allison. I promise."

"We'll be careful," Allison promised. "We'll keep an eye on your dad."

"Thank you," Scott said sincerely, pressing forward to place a kiss on Allison's lips. "And hey, maybe if we find Kali and defeat her, we'll finally be able to get some alone time together. All three of us."

"Hell with staying on the sidelines!" Allison cried before laughing. 

Scott laughed with her before giving Allison one last kiss and opening the car door. "I'll see you soon."

Now, sitting in Lydia's car with Ethan practically breathin down his neck, Scott restrained himself to sending Allison a simple text. " <3"

Wen they arrived at the bowling alley, Scott's dad was already there, his cruiser blocking the driveway, the lights flashing brightly. The man himself was carrying a small girl away from the building. Lydia parked haphazardly on the side of the road, and Scott was out of the car before it had come to a full stop. He ran forward, calling, "Dad! Dad, you have to get out of here!"

From the direction of the building, Chris Argent called, "They need you inside, Scott." He had a man's arm slung over his shoulder and was helping the man hobble away from the bowling alley. He nodded his head up, and Scott followed his gaze to the roof of the bowlin alley, where Allison was perched, bow in hand. "The three of us have the outside covered. Get in there."

Scott nodded his thanks, waved to his dad, and looked back to make sure Ethan was following. To Scott's surprise, Lydia hurried to keep up behind them as well, losing ground to Scott's and Ethan's supernatural strides. The first thing Scott heard when he pulled open the door was a loud growl and glass shattering. 

Inside, a bowling ball was embedded in the mirrored wall behind the snack bar, and Boyd was sprawled out in the entryway. He looked up at Scott, put his hand up, and asked, "Little help?"

Scott helped him up without hesitation, but Ethan rushed past them, heading toward a loud cracking noise. Scott rounded the corner, Boyd and Lydia on his heels, and found Isaac panting and bleeding on top of a craked and splintered set of plastic seats. Cora fought at Derek's side against Kali, who looked about twelve feet tall. She wasn't even recognizable behind her wolf-face, her body completely furred and her clothing long gone. 

Kali howled and swiped at Derek, but he rolled and then kicked the side of her knee, making her falter and roar at him. Cora swiped her claws across Kali's side, but she wasn't fast enough to avoid the blow that sent her flying across the room. 

Scott waded into the fray, Ethan behind him. Catching Ethan's eye, Scott urged him, "Talk to her! Be her anchor!"

Derek dodged another blow and Scott rushed forward to help him. Behind them, Ethan shouted, "Kali! Kali, listen to me!" Scott caught a glancing blow of Kali's claws when he didn't duck fast enough and while he was picking himself up, he saw that Ethan had climbed up on one of the ball returns. He had a bowling ball in his hands and he chucked it at Kali like it weighed nothing more than a paperweight. Kali screamed and turned toward Ethan. 

While she was distracted, Derek took a big swipe at Kali's belly, spraying blood everywhere. Kali screamed again, the sound horrifyingly human coming from something so monstrous. Then she growled and knocked Derek aside with one heavy paw. Scott managed to catch Derek and break his fall, but they both toppled to the ground. Scott looked up in time to see another bowling ball hit Kali, in her shoulder. 

She rounded on Ethan again and again he shouted her name. "Kali! It's me, Ethan! Kali, you're not like this! _You_ taught _me_ control!"

Through a snout and sharp teeth, Kali growled, "Ennis!" It sounded like a plea.

"I can't bring him back, Kali!" Ethan said, just a second before she plowed forward and toppled Ethan from his perch. She leapt over the ball return and pressed one of her sharp-clawed feet against his chest.

This time when she spoke, there was nothing disguising the rage in her voice. "Deucalion!"

Scott scrambled to his feet and grabbed the closest bowling ball and threw it at Kali. "Kali! Stop this!"

She spared Scott a quick glance, but renewed her focus on Ethan. "Did you know? Did you know Deucalion killed Ennis?"

Ethan shook his head frantically, his hands circled around Kali's wolf-shaped foot. "No! I didn't know! Come on, Kali. Stop this!"

"Please, stop!" Scott added, edging closer. "You don't have to hurt people. You don't have to be like Deucalion!"

Kali finally turned and faced Scott, baring her teeth at him in some horrifying parody of a smile. "But I am like him," she said, shifting her weight toward the foot pressed to Ethan's chest. Ethan made a choking sound, his hands scrabbling against her foot. "I'm _just_. Like. Him."

Scott watched in horror as Kali shifted her weight away, like she was gearing up to crush Ethan under her foot. Before she could finish the action, a flaming ball hit the side of Kali's head and she toppled sideways. 

Scott looked around for whoever had thrown the ball, thinking it had to have been one of the werewolves working with Lydia. He had no idea where she'd get the chemicals to make a firebomb here at the bowling alley, but she was a genius, so he didn't put it past her. When Scott's eyes landed on Lydia, she wasn't standing next to a werewolf at all.

Lydia stood at the side of the room, her eyes blank with a thousand-yard gaze. Next to her stood a figure wearing a black robe and some sort of ripped-skin mask that looked like something out of a scary movie. The figure drew back its hand and threw another fireball at Kali, knocking her back. She stumbled over the uneven surface between bowling lanes, but didn't fall.

Her lip curling up, Kali snarled, "Darach."

The Darach pushed two hands forward and a shockwave blasted through the entire bowling alley, knocking everyone except the Darach and Lydia off their feet. Scott ended up sliding back and into Isaac, who grabbed Scott around the waist and held him from sliding any further. Boyd held onto a ball return. Ethan barely moved, his prone body below most of the onslaught. Cora stood up, her back braced against the bowling shoe counter. Derek planted his feet and stayed standing, even though Scott couldn't understand how he could possibly be strong enough to pull it off, even if he was the alpha. 

Scott didn't stop himself from grabbing Isaac's hand and squeezing it, though he did keep his eyes on the scene in front of him. Isaac's heartbeat gave a satisfying stutter as he squeezed Scott's hand back and then let go as the Darach's spell ended. He and Scott helped each other to their feet and Scott smiled when he realized they were moving toward the Darach in tandem. 

Ethan's cry of, "No!" drew Scott's attention away from the Darach to where Derek had Kali's throat in one hand and his other hand up, ready to strike with his claws. Ethan threw himself at Derek before Derek could complete the motion.

"Don't kill her!" Scott cried back at Boyd, who jumped on Kali once Derek was out of the way. Cora scrambled past Scott, toward Boyd. "Don't kill her!"

Boyd paused, meeting Scott's eyes, and nodded. He drew back his fist, but Kali gathered her senses and pushed Boyd away before he could strike. 

Scott turned around just in time to see Isaac hit directly in the chest with a fireball. He landed on his back with a pained yell, batting at the flames on his shirt. 

Scott wanted to go stop the Darach. He really did. He wanted to keep Derek from killing Kali unless it was absolutely necessary. But all Scott could make himself do was rush to Isaac's side and help him roll over to put out the flames. "You okay?"

"A little well-done," Isaac breathed, giving Scott a weary smile, "but okay."

Across the room, Cora and Boyd fought Ethan and Derek chased after Kali, who ran full speed toward the Darach. Scott chased after them, determined to put the fighting to the end, but he just ended up being thrown toward the arcade when the Darach threw its next spell – this time a giant wave of water. 

Scott sat up, spluttering, to see Kali back in human form, Derek holding her on her knees while the Darach forced a gush of water down her throat. Kali struggled, but it was no use. The Darach was drowning her! "Derek, don't!" Scott called. "Don't kill her!"

Scott got up to go help, but a hand wrapped around his and held him back. Scott guessed it was Isaac, holding Scott back out of some lingering loyalty to Derek, even though Derek and the evil Darach were obviously working together. But it was Scott's brother, instead.

Ms. Blake holding tightly to his other hand, Stiles asked Scott, "Trust me?"

Scott nodded without having to think.

~*~

When Deaton told Stiles to go home, he left the veterinarian's office, pulling Ms. Blake along with him. As soon as they were outside the building and in Ms. Blake's car, Stiles insisted, "We're not going home."

Ms. Blake's expression morphed rapidly from confused, to disbelieving, to pissed off. "No! We can't go after them! You heard what that man said! We'd just get in the way."

Stiles turned in his seat to face Ms. Blake straight on. "Look, there's a chance – a small chance – that we're not as useless as everyone thinks we are. That monster almost killed my family today, Ms. Blake. My _family_! And I couldn't protect them. I can't do this without you."

God, he sounded pathetic. 

Ms. Blake chewed on the edge of her lower lip, a gesture that barely registered with Stiles, and wasn't that a good indication of his current mental status? "This is going to be dangerous, isn't it?"

"Oh, yeah," Stiles replied with a grin.

"I'm going to regret this, aren't I?" Ms. Blake's brow furrowed as she turned away and put her hands firmly on the steering wheel.

"Oh, yeah."

Stiles could practically see the gears turning in Ms. Blake's head. It only took a moment of silence, in which Stiles held his breath, anticipating her response, before Ms. Blake nodded sharply. "Okay. Okay, let's do this." As she started the engine, Ms. Blake said in a softer voice, "Oh, god. I'm gonna get one of my students killed. I'm so fired."

Stiles couldn't not respond by saying, "If it makes you feel any better, you're, like, the best English teacher I've ever had."

"Nope. That makes me feel worse," she replied, turning to look as she backed out of the parking space. "Try not to die, okay?"

The serious, almost pleading tone in Ms. Blake's voice sobered Stiles' mood. "Yeah," he agreed, facing forward and scratching his knee with one hand. "Yeah, you too."

A quick text to Allison told Stiles that the fight was happening at the bowling alley, so Stiles told Ms. Blake to drive that way. When they approached, a Sheriff's cruiser was blocking the parking lot entrance, the lights flashing bright red and blue. Ms. Blake slowed down and said, "I don't know…"

"Dude, that's my dad's car," Stiles told her. "It'll be fine. I promise. But if we're gonna help, we gotta get in there."

Ms. Blake pulled over and Stiles jumped out of the car, hurrying around it to urge Ms. Blake out of her seat. "Come on!"

Ms. Blake took Stiles' hand and let him help her out of the car and start pulling her toward the bowling alley. Stiles' shin still hurt like hell, but every step got easier as long as he ignored it completely. 

When they got closer, Ms. Blake pulled back on Stiles' hand. "Something doesn't feel right," she said, her eyes wide.

Frustrated, Stiles replied, "No shit. There's a bunch of werewolves fighting each other. It's always bad news."

Ms. Blake shook her head, but she let Stiles pull her into a run toward the building. Stiles caught sight of Allison on the roof of the bowling alley and he waved up at her. She waved back and called, "Be careful. I heard an explosion a minute ago!"

Stiles expected Ms. Blake to pull back at Allison's news, but she pulled Stiles forward instead. Stiles followed her into the building just in time to see Scott hit by a wave of water. Stiles pushed away the urge to wonder where the water had come from and pushed forward. 

In the center of the bowling alley, standing in one of the lanes (which Stiles found impressive because he'd walked out on those lanes at a birthday party and they were slippery as fuck), Derek held Kali down while water from thin air poured into her nose and throat. Stiles spotted a figure across the room standing next to Lydia. It was wearing this really gross mask and had its arms up, hands out. Oh, it must be the Darach making that water appear out of thin air.

Stiles figured everything was at least sort of cool, because Kali didn't look like she was going anywhere, but then Scott sat up and begged Derek not to kill her. Shit. The Darach had killed more people than Kali, hadn't it? It was the threat, not Kali. And Derek was working with it. Lydia, too, more likely than not. 

Stiles tugged Ms. Blake forward so he could grab Scott's hand. Deaton had said he needed a Medium and a werewolf to make this Druid-power thing happen. He had Ms. Blake in one hand and Scott in the other. Yeah, this would work.

When Scott turned, his eyes widening when he saw Stiles, Stiles knew there wasn't time for argument. If they were gonna save Kali and stop the Darach, Stiles needed Scott's cooperation ASAP. So Stiles called on the Holy Grail of familial obligation and asked, "Trust me?"

The way Scott didn't even hesitate before nodding was gratifying to no end.

Stiles pulled Scott closer and brought Ms. Blake in as well. "Okay. We all have to imagine the same thing, I think. Let's go with the Darach getting knocked out."

"Darach's the one with the Halloween mask?" Ms. Blake asked.

Stiles and Scott both nodded.

"And how, exactly, are we knocking out this guy?" Ms. Blake asked, scrunching up one side of her face. "Like, an imaginary fist? Or this Darach thing falls asleep?"

"Giant imaginary fist," Stiles decided, focusing his attention on the Darach. "Just imagine it happening."

Stiles brought to mind every cartoon and video game he'd ever seen, and imagined with all his might a big, gnarly fist clobbering the Darach. Ms. Blake's hand in his grew warmer and Stiles was able to pull from her a tingly feeling that crawled up his arm. Scott's side felt weaker, thready, so Stiles told him, "Think Starfox, dude. Final battle."

Scott nodded, the muscles in his jaw jumping as he clenched his teeth together. Suddenly, the tingly feeling from Scott grew even stronger than the one from Ms. Blake. Keeping the image firmly in his mind, Stiles thought, _Now!_ , and the Darach staggered. The water drowning Kali stopped and Derek let her slip to the floor as he rounded on Stiles and the others. 

The Darach cried out, it's voice harsh and painful. Beside Stiles, Ms. Blake faltered, and Stiles felt his connection with her weakening. Then Ms. Blake shook her head and whispered, "No." When she said it again louder, "No!" Stiles felt his connection with her lock into place. A shiver ran down Stiles' spine and his blood thundered loudly in his ears, this incredible warmth flowing through him and back out toward her, and a little toward Scott. 

Ms. Blake opened her eyes and they looked clouded over, which Stiles found more than a little freaky. "Ms. Blake?" he said, but she didn't seem to hear him.

On Stiles' other side, Scott was focused on Isaac and Boyd, who were trying to stop Derek from getting to Scott, Stiles, and Ms. Blake. 

And then Stiles felt Ms. Blake pull on their connection, drawing hot-like-fire power from Scott and across Stiles. Ms. Blake shouted, "Let them go!" and it felt like the whole room exhaled.

The Darach staggered again, Lydia slumped to the floor, and Kali gasped and spluttered. When Stiles turned his head, he saw Derek take a hit from Boyd and go down, hitting his head on one of the bowling ball returns. 

Scott tried to pull away, but Stiles gripped his brother's hand as hard as he could. The Darach might have taken a hit, but it wasn't down yet.

Cora surprised Stiles by bounding across the bowling lanes until she reached Kali and dragging the coughing werewolf closer to Stiles and on the solid, carpeted ground. Stiles tried to catch her eye, to see how she was doing, but she didn't spare him a glance. Instead, her eyes were on the Darach.

Sure enough, the evil Druid picked itself up and jumped around Lydia, heading for the space behind the pin setting machines. It paused once to throw a fireball directly at Stiles, but Stiles felt how he, Scott, and Ms. Blake all deflected it in unison.

"It's getting away!" Isaac cried, leaving Boyd with Derek and sprinting toward where the Darach had disappeared. There was nothing Stiles could do to stop Scott from breaking their connection and following. Cora ran after as well, leaving Kali alone and not too far from Stiles and Ms. Blake. 

And for some reason, Stiles and Ms. Blake were hugging very tightly. "That was so scary," she breathed against Stiles' neck.

Stiles bit his lip and nodded. Then he noticed Lydia sitting up, one hand to her head. "Come on," he said to Ms. Blake, thinking he should probably stop holding his English teacher's hand, but he couldn't quite make his muscles cooperate.

They got to Lydia as she was getting to her feet. "What happened?" she asked, her eyes lighting on Boyd and Derek, then Kali, and then Stiles and Ms. Blake's clasped hands. 

With no small amount of noise, Kali scrambled to her feet and ran from the building, much more human-looking than she'd been a few hours previously. Calling over to Boyd, Stiles asked, "Are we letting her go?"

Boyd shrugged and then turned back to Derek, giving him a helping hand onto his feet. When Ms Blake saw Derek, who had an impressive amount of blood dripping from one temple, she pulled herself free of Stiles' grip and rushed over to him. It felt kind of like she'd taken a piece of Stiles with her as the bond between them stretched and broke.

"Hello?" Lydia gave Stiles a very insistent poke on the shoulder. 

"What? Yeah," Stiles said, turning away from Ms. Blake and toward Lydia. "Sorry. You okay?"

"Wanna fill me in on what just happened?" She asked, rubbing the side of her head. If anyone else had performed the same move, they would have messed up their hair. Lydia's remained perfect. 

Stiles filled Lydia in on the events as he knew them, and a minute later, Scott and Isaac came back, empty handed. "What happened?"

Scott sighed heavily and shrugged. "We lost it."

A bright flare of fear flared through Stiles. "Where's Cora?"

Scott looked at Isaac, who shook his head and said, "Didn't see her."

"Shit." Stiles left Lydia with Scott and Isaac and ran back into the building. His leg felt like it was splintering on every step, but finding Cora was more important than enduring a little pain.

He hurried through the darkened space, trying not to breathe so loudly and trying not to see figures that weren't there in the exposed machinery of the pinsetters. Figuring the Darach had to have killed Cora and stashed her body, Stiles looked everywhere he figured a body could be hidden. And he was addicted to morbid crime stories, so Stiles could think of a lot of places to hide a body.

A bang echoed through the space and the light became more orange, like the streetlights out in the parking lot. Stiles half-hid behind one of the machines, but he peered as best he could through the dark toward the open exit door at the end of the room. There were two figures there, arguing softly. Stiles couldn't quite hear what they were saying, so he tried to move closer, but he must have made a noise. One of the figures turned toward him, and the light hit her face so Stiles could see it was Cora. Healthy as a horse. Or a wolf, whatever.

Cora shooed the other figure away, roared and slammed the door shut. She ran back toward Stiles, so he stepped out from behind the machine far before she got there and affected a pant, like he'd been running. "There you are! Did you find it?"

"No," Cora said, her fangs retreating. "She got away. C'mon, let's get back to the others." Cora took Stiles' elbow and led him back the way he'd come.

Stiles let himself limp again, mostly to slow them down and give himself a chance to think. Cora had been speaking to someone, and she'd put on a play instead of letting Stiles know who it was. She'd also called that someone, "she."

As the realization settled over Stiles, he felt his stomach drop and twist into knots. Cora knew who the Darach was. Cora was probably working with the Darach!

Cora could have been involved in the deaths of a lot of innocent people! If the Darach had been in what happened at the motel, Cora could have been involved in Scott and Boyd's deaths! What was going on?

Cora pulled Stiles’ arm over her shoulders, taking some of the weight off of his injured leg, smiling at him. Stiles tried to smile back, but he was pretty sure he wasn’t being very convincing. He’d had so much practice in the last year getting his face to do what he wanted it to so that Dad and Mima wouldn’t find out about Scott, but Stiles still didn’t feel very convincing.

Then Cora leaned closer and said in a low voice, “That was some pretty fancy stuff you pulled back there.”

It took Stiles a moment of sheer panic before he realized she was talking about working those spells (or whatever the hell he was supposed to call them) with Scott and Ms. Blake, and not spying on her little argument with the Darach. Bile rose in the back of Stiles’ throat and he felt like he was going to be sick. Swallowing, he said, “Yeah, well, I couldn’t let you guys take all the credit.”

Cora laughed.

She was working with a murderer, and Stiles was making her laugh, like a boyfriend should. 

Stiles was really starting to rethink the plan he’d recently made for his first real sexual encounter. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the lack of chapters lately! RL has been super busy and I had a big bang draft to write. If you want updates on how I'm doing, writing-wise, you can keep an eye on [this page](http://pterawaters.tumblr.com/tagged/twirling-round).
> 
>  
> 
> I also hope the Druid/Medium/Werewolf mechanics made sense to everyone. If there was anything unclear, please let me know and I'll try to address those questions in following chapters. Thanks again for reading!


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our heroes deal with the fall out of their latest encounter with the Darach.

Peter never could just go up to someone’s door and knock. He liked to know what he was getting into, which meant he liked to watch for a little while. Janet kept her hair short now. Before she had always let it grow long, long, long. Peter liked to run his hands through it, play with it, make strong ropes out of it that held possibility but no real use.

She lived in a little house on the outskirts of Oklahoma, so much different than the metropolitan scene she’d always loved. Peter had never dreamed of taking Janet out of the city. He figured their children would grow up running through the city streets, their bedrooms small and cozy in the penthouse apartment he, Jan, and Luke had been saving for. This house was wrong.

The small boy Jan lived with could only be her son. The color of his hair reminded Peter of Jan’s, dark, inky black. Peter didn’t get close enough to see the color of his eyes, but his skin was so, so fair. As the sun went down and Peter crept closer to the house, he heard Jan speak to the boy. She called him, “Luke.”

The name made Peter so unforgivably morose that he felt like he needed to destroy something. Something large and flashy, preferably.

After putting the boy to bed, Jan left the house by the back door, saying, “I know you’re out there.”

Peter stepped into the light cast by the house, letting Jan notice him in her own time. It didn’t take long. Her senses had always been sharp. “Could never get anything past you.”

Crossing her arms under her breasts, Jan lifted her chin at Peter. “You went missing six months ago. What took you so long?”

“You never came to visit,” Peter pointed out, leaning around Jan to look into the house. “I knew what Derek and Laura knew. I thought you were dead.”

“We thought they were dead, too.” Jan leaned to block Peter’s line of sight. “I read the news. You weren’t going to wake up. Why put-” Jan’s gaze flicked back toward the house. “Why put myself back on the hunters’ radar if you weren’t going to even _be there_?”

“No, no, you’re right.” Peter stepped closer and Jan stood her ground. “I wasn’t there. I was trapped,” he tapped his temple, “inside my _head_. For six long years. Can you imagine what that does to a person? Thinking somebody murdered everyone he ever cared about, and he can’t even move his little finger to get revenge?”

Jan rolled her eyes, which made Peter smile. “I’m not going to help you.”

“It’s already done.” Peter took another step forward, and another. “Do you want to know how good it felt raking my claws through Kate Argent’s throat? Do you want to know how much the investigator who ruled the fire an accident _begged_ for his life before I ripped him apart? Do you want to hear about the criminals Kate hired and how loud they screamed when I burned them alive?”

Jan smiled fiercely, her teeth sharp. “Did you kill all of the Argents?”

“Sadly, no,” Peter said with a sigh. “Kate’s brother, Chris, is unfailingly _good_ and my nephew wouldn’t let me step over that line. Did you know he _killed_ me?”

“Little Derek?” Jan asked, her mouth curling down at the edges in an impressed frown. “And yet, here you are. Alive again.”

Peter shrugged. “Worm moon. Medium. It’s a long story.”

“Coming back takes its toll.” Retightening her arms around herself, she took a step forward, her bare feet crunching the autumn-dry grass. “You’re not the same man.”

“I haven’t been the same man since I found my husband in pieces, darling,” Peter said, throwing a flippant gesture that belied the lance of pain through his heart at the memory. “What’s a little death atop the pile?”

A smile tugged at the corner of Janet’s lips. “You always have an answer for everything, don’t you, Hale?”

“Perhaps. Right now I have a question.”

Jan nodded her head.

“Is he- is he like me?”

Jan’s eyes filled with tears and she choked back a sob as she nodded. “So much. He’s so much like you, Peter! I-”

When Jan opened her arms, Peter crossed the distance between them in a heartbeat. He buried his face in her neck, missing the warm blanket of hair that used accompany a hug from his wife. Peter breathed her in and found that, though the overlaying scents of her house and her new shampoo and even her new state were different, her underlying scent was the same. When Peter squeezed Jan tightly, she squeezed him back.

When Peter loosened his hold, Jan stepped back and, biting on her thumbnail, invited him in. Peter accepted of course. As she led the way through the back door and into the kitchen, Jan said, "I'd ask how you found me, but I'm sure I already know."

"Cora," Peter admitted, taking a seat at the kitchen table when Janet pointed it out to him. He smiled when she sat down as well. "She told me she ran away. That you wouldn't let her go to California."

Jan rolled her eyes and shook her head. "I mean, we got rumors about a Hale alpha, but that's all they were. Rumors. I didn't want to go courting danger over rumors. Not when I have-" Jan jerked her head toward the darkened hallway leading away from the kitchen, "-to worry about. I told Dinah that since she was eighteen, there was nothing I could do to stop her. But Cor-"

"Wait," Peter interrupted. "Dinah's _alive_?"

"She was when she and Cora stole my car," Jan said, pushing out her lips in an angry pout. "Couldn't even report it for the insurance without getting them in trouble, so I had to go buy another. Ungrateful little shits. You didn't see Dinah with Cora?"

"No," Peter said, a cold sense of realization spreading across his skin. "Does Dinah take after her uncle?"

"You mean after _you_ or Keith? Because I've got to say, I see a lot more of Kei-"

"Her _other_ uncle," Peter insisted, waving off mention of his brother. "On the other side."

"Oh," Jan said, her open mouth pulling into a frown as she nodded. "As far as I could tell without her talking to me about it, yes."

Peter swallowed nervously.

~*~

Derek spent the night after the battle with Kali trying to figure out what had happened to him. His phone said that the date was two weeks past anything he remembered. He’d lost two weeks somehow. They were just gone. 

He’d never lost time before. Even after Kate and Liz and everything that had happened to his family. The only time Derek had ever skipped over was the time he spent unconscious, either knocked out, half-dead, or – rarely – asleep. But he hadn’t been unconscious for two weeks. He’d woken up on his feet, with Boyd’s claws headed for his face.

Things in his loft were different than he remembered, too. Books were in different places, his tube of toothpaste was almost empty. And clothes that he remembered taking to the Laundromat with Cora and waiting, painstakingly, for the wash cycle to finish? Those clothes smelled like he’d worn them for days, sweated in them, and even bled on a few.

One of his shirts, the soft muted green one, was buried at the bottom of his laundry pile, and it was splattered with blood. It smelled like werewolf blood, but it wasn’t his. 

Agitated, Derek texted Cora at four in the morning. _Where are you?_

It took Cora less than a minute to respond. _I’m with Boyd. Get some sleep._

While it was true Derek felt exhausted, he felt like he’d missed too much already. He didn’t want to sleep. He wanted to know what had happened. How had he ended up in a bowling alley, of all places, with Boyd’s claws in his face?

Derek was in the middle of rearranging the kitchen when Jennifer, bleary eyed and wearing a pair of Derek’s sweatpants rolled over several times at the waist, stumbled into the room. “Hey,” she said softly, pushing her hair behind one ear and approaching him carefully. Her hand rose up toward his temple, but she didn’t touch him. “All better.”

“I heal,” he replied, turning away and rolling his eyes at himself. “Sorry I woke you.”

“It’s fine,” Jen said, leaning against the short counter between the stove and the sink. “I have to get back on school schedule anyway. I start again on Wednesday.” 

When Derek looked over at Jen, she gave him a tentative smile, which made him want to hit something. What had he done during the time he didn’t remember? Jen must still trust him. She’d spent the night. But did she feel the same as she had before? Or had Derek unknowingly done something that was going to make this fall apart?

Maybe it would be better if he just let it fall apart.

There must have been some hope hiding in his heart, because Derek told Jen, “I’ve been ... gone. For almost two weeks.”

Jen frowned, her brows furrowing. Crossing her arms under her breasts, she said, “If you’re talking ‘gone’ as in emotionally distant, well, duh. I noticed.”

“No,” he said, feeling the edge of his lip curl upward. “I mean... I mean, I don’t _remember_. Did I do something?”

Jen would tell him the truth, wouldn’t she? She didn’t have any motive for lying to him. And, for some reason, she seemed to have feelings for him. Anyone who truly had feelings for him wouldn’t lie.

“You-” Jen cut herself off, her mouth still open, but the furrow between her brows deepening. “The Darach. It had you. I never remembered afterward either. Not until last night. Derek, I-” Jen’s lower lip wobbled and her eyes watered up. Derek moved toward her, slipping his hand over her shoulder and down toward the small of her back. “I _killed_ someone. I remember that now. Oh, god!” She gasped through a sob and turned against Derek’s chest, pressing herself into him. “There was so much blood!”

“It wasn’t you,” Derek insisted, needing to spare Jen the guilt that came with knowingly deciding to kill someone, even if that someone was a killer himself. “You wouldn’t have.”

“Two girls,” Jen told Derek. “They were both so young. So pretty. I- I didn’t let myself remember last night. But now? Oh, god!”

Derek held Jen tight and murmured to her while she sobbed against his chest. If this is what Jen remembered of her time being under the Darach’s spell, what could Derek have done?

As Jen calmed down, with the help of the glass of water Derek poured for her after getting her to sit down at the desk, he tried to think about how to broach the topic with her. Maybe he shouldn’t. She’d been through enough. He couldn’t ask her to relive the past two weeks, looking for things he might be responsible for. 

Eventually, tucked back into bed with one of Derek’s books, Jen fell asleep. Derek stepped outside the loft doors and, even though it was still only seven in the morning, he called Scott. It took too many rings before Scott answered, “Derek?”

“I need to know what’s happened in the last two weeks,” Derek demanded.

“What’s happ-” On Scott’s end of the connection, fabric rustled loudly and Derek pictured Scott getting out of bed. A few footsteps later, Scott hissed, “You don’t remember?”

Voice low and unamused, Derek admitted, “No. I don’t.”

“Deucalion is dead,” Scott told him. “Kali killed him. She’s the super-alpha or whatever now. Aiden is dead. My dad knows about me. Um, I think...” Scott sighed. “Yeah, I think that’s about it.”

Derek disconnected the call.

Aiden had been one of the alpha twins. Derek remembered ripping him apart. Someone, someone other than him, had lured Aiden to the woods. Derek caught him by surprise, and without his brother. Their fight had been painfully short.

Derek couldn't remember much more than that. But he did know that he'd killed a person - a bad person, maybe, but still a person. He'd killed a person and hadn't had a chance to feel that loss. It was important, feeling the loss of anyone who died. But it was especially important to feel the loss of the people you'd killed. Otherwise you were just a predator, picking off so many sheep.

Derek bowed his head into his hands and said the words his mima had taught him. Derek remembered the feeling of blood and flesh on his hands, under his claws, and he said the words over and over. _I committed a life to the ground. I give thanks I am alive. I ask the universe for balance._

That was how Stiles found him.

~*~

When Stiles woke up, it took him a minute to remember that it was Saturday morning (well, afternoon) and he wasn't ridiculously late for school. Scott's bed on the other side of the room was empty, and yet again it looked like he hadn't actually slept in it. 

Stiles supposed that if he had his boyfriend living in the house, he wouldn't spend much time in his own bed either, but so far it had been a moot point. It would probably continue to be moot for a long, long time, too. Boyd's parents were really solid people. He'd met them once, when he and Boyd both had projects in the science fair. They seemed like the kind of people who would never, ever die, even in Beacon Hills.

On that cheery note, Stiles had to find some way of telling Boyd what he'd seen. Cora and the Darach had what appeared to be an argument, but it wasn't the sort of argument where you're about to tear someone's throat out. No, Cora had given the Darach some personal space, and both of them had gestured without striking. It was the kind of argument Stiles had with Scott when Scott left his dirty socks on Stiles' desk chair. It was the kind of argument Jackson and Lydia used to have all the time in the hallways about who got to decide their weekend plans. 

Cora and the Darach were _familiar_ with one another, or they'd done a damn good job of making Stiles _think_ they were familiar with one another. He couldn't quite see the endgame of that option, so Stiles decided to put that idea on the backburner and go with the assumption that Cora knew who the Darach was, that they were close, and that they were definitely working together.

Stiles got dressed, found his parents sacked out together in their room, and Scott and Isaac nowhere to be found. They were probably with Allison.

Stiles gathered his things together, tied on his shoes, and went out to the Jeep. He gave her a friendly pat on the hood and got in the driver's seat. On the one hand, he really wanted to go confront Cora with what he knew. But on the other hand, he didn't want to be ritually sacrificed either. Even if the Darach wasn't killing virgins anymore, being one had to make him a bigger target for sacrifice, right?

Sitting there in the car, Stiles closed his eyes and tried to figure out what to do, where to go, who to talk to. He kept coming up with the same answer - Ms. Blake. Something about the connection they'd formed the night before felt like it was still there, tugging on him. It was annoying, to be honest. Stiles was a free man, thank you very much. If the price of getting to do awesome spells was this weird connection with his English teacher, Stiles was going to have to rethink whether or not it was worth it.

And then he remembered the feeling he got when things between them clicked. His hands turned on the engine and his feet worked the pedals. Stiles didn't know where Ms. Blake's apartment was, but he knew where Derek's was and that Derek would probably be there, keeping watch over Ms. Blake.

As he drove, Stiles tried to imagine what it would feel like, forming that sort of connection with the werewolf side of the equation as well. Stiles felt a little cheated that he hadn't had a good bond with Scott, but to be fair, Scott had a lot on his mind when all that was going on - Isaac, Boyd, Derek almost killing Kali. If he had made that connection with Scott, Stiles was sure he'd be heading toward Allison's house - Scott's most likely destination - rather than toward Derek's.

When he got to Derek's loft, no one answered the knock he gave as he stepped into the entryway. "Hello?" Stiles called out, walking further into the loft. There, sitting on the couch-futon-whatever, sat Derek with his head in his hands. Stiles' stomach dropped. He rushed over to Derek, kneeling in front of him, reaching to put a hand on Derek's shoulder, and asked, "What's wrong? What happened? Where's Ms. Blake?"

"Upstairs," Derek ground out between clenched teeth. "She's fine."

Stiles dropped his hands to his sides. "Then-"

"I killed that alpha. The twin. Aiden." Derek's confession came in clipped phrases, short bursts of air like something else might be lost if he said more than a few words at a time.

"You- Oh," Stiles said, sinking down onto his heels. He remembered seeing the pieces of Aiden's body before the authorities got there and covered them with blue tarps. The violence that had torn apart a freaking alpha werewolf had seemed senseless, and somehow _Derek_ was the one who'd done it? "But-but you weren't yourself, right?" Stiles hadn't gotten the whole story from Derek the night before, but it was clear he had been coming out of some sort of Darach-induced fog when Stiles left.

"No." Derek laughed humorlessly. "No, I was _better_. The Darach took, well it took me, and what was left fought better than I ever have. It took me less than a minute to kill an alpha."

Stiles felt sick to his stomach. He inched forward and put his hand on Derek's arm. "Dude, no. I saw what the Darach made you do to Aiden. Nothing about that was _better_. Nothing."

A sound on the staircase behind Stiles made him turn around to see Ms. Blake coming downstairs. She was wearing what looked like Derek's clothes, and her hair was sort of in a soft halo around her, not brushed or anything. It felt a lot like that time Stiles and his dad stopped by Mrs. Bettendorf's house to pick up the retainer he'd left in her classroom, so he would have it over winter break. Mrs. Bettendorf had been wearing jeans and no lipstick and her house smelled just like her clothes always did and her husband had a beard and made gruff small talk with Stiles' dad. Stiles had left feeling confused and off-kilter. He felt the same now.

Maybe some of the unease was due to seeing Ms. Blake in bedhead and what amounted to pajamas. However, Stiles thought the rest of it was due to this urge to renew the bond they'd had the night before. The memory of Ms. Blake taking over, her eyes going white as she laid the smack down on that evil druid, made Stiles shiver. The shiver was about ten percent fear, fifteen percent awe, and seventy-five percent arousal.

"Uh, hi. Ms. Blake," Stiles stood up and wrapped his arms around himself, sitting far, far away from where Ms. Blake joined Derek on the futon. 

"Stiles." Ms. Blake nodded with a stiff-upper-lip smile. She put her arm around Derek's back, which Derek allowed without protest. "You might as well call me Jen. It's not like there's much left of the student-teacher boundary here."

Stiles pressed his lips together. He was not going to get excited about being allowed to use a teacher's first name. He was almost seventeen years old, damn it. He- oh, screw it. Grinning, Stiles asked, "Really? Cool- that's- that's cool."

Ms. Blake, Jen, smiled and shook her head, rolling her eyes. Then she shifted her attention to Derek and the edges of her lips turned down, her brow furrowing. "What's going on, Derek?"

Derek shook his head and sighed before sitting up straighter and putting a hand on Jen's knee. "I'm starting to remember."

"Ah. Kind of a bitch, huh?" Jen replied, putting her hand over Derek's. Stiles suddenly felt very much like he should either be out of the room, or much closer to the two of them. He fought the urge to move in either direction and stayed standing a safe distance apart from them. "But at least I got her out of our heads last night. I won't let her do that to you again. Well, Stiles and I won't let it happen again." Jen smiled up at Stiles and he couldn't help but nod in agreement, a sharp flare of wanting to prove himself to her, to both of them, slicing through his chest and making his heart speed up.

Then a thought occurred to him. "Wait, 'her'?" Stiles asked. He knew Cora had called the Darach a she, but how could Jen possibly know that it was a girl? "Do you-do you know who the Darach is?"

Jen shook her head. "But I felt it, when I pushed the Darach out of my head. I _know_ it's a woman."

"Shaky evidence," Stiles said with a nervous chuckle. "But alright. So, we've cut our suspect pool down from everyone in town to half the people in town. Yippee."

"At least it's something," Derek said, his voice weary. Stiles wondered if he'd slept at all the night before. Probably not.

And then there was the matter of, "I, uh. I have to tell you guys something." Stiles stalled for time, swinging his arms back and forth. How was he supposed to tell Derek, the scariest guy he knew, who had also just been freaking _crying_ that his sister wasn't who she said she was?

"Yeah?" Jen prompted, scooting forward in her seat, which was probably the first time Stiles had ever seen anyone do that in anticipation of something _he_ was about to say. It felt kinda nice, actually, even if it did make Stiles' cheeks warm.

"Uh, last night after the Darach ran off?" Jen nodded, but Derek just stared with this intensity that made Stiles lick his lips. "Well, I went to go find Cora, because you know, we're dating and-"

"Wait, what?" Derek blinked at Stiles.

Stiles blinked right back at him. "Me and Boyd and Cora? Dating? I mean, it's pretty new. Only a couple of weeks, and...you don't remember. Or maybe she never told you, or both." Watching Derek's dark brows sink lower and lower, Stiles assured Derek, "Look, not an issue, okay? I'm breaking up with her."

"Why would you do that? She seems like a nice person," Jen said, clearing her throat and tucking a piece of hair back behind one ear. Then she put her hands around one of Derek's elbows, like she'd hold him there if he decided to get violent. But seriously. It wasn't like Derek had a problem with Boyd dating Cora, why would the addition of Stiles make it any more date-like than it already had been?

"No, yeah, Cora's great," Stiles said with a nervous nod. He tried not to drop too much volume as he added, "She talks to the Darach like it's an old friend, calls it 'she', but other than that..."

"Where did you get that idea?" Derek asked, a growl coloring his voice. "Cora has nothing to do with the Darach."

"Oh, I only saw it with my own two eyes," Stiles argued, trying not to take a step back when Derek stood up and moved toward Stiles, getting in his face. Stiles couldn't help but flinch away a little bit, but he didn't let Derek stop him from saying, "Cora was _talking_ to the Darach. She _lied_ to me when I asked her what had happened. She's working with it!"

"Get out," Derek growled, still up in Stiles' face, pointing his hand toward the door. "Get out of here, Stiles."

"But it's the truth!" 

Derek feinted at Stiles, so Stiles couldn't help but let out a soft exclamation. And then Jen stood between them, her back to Stiles. Her entire presence made Stiles feel like all the hair on his arms was standing on end, reaching toward her. Stiles put a hand over Jen's when she wrapped her hands around his arm and started tugging him toward the door. Her hand felt warm and tingly under his.

"You guys have to believe me!"

"Later," Jen said as she pulled Stiles out of the loft. She looked down at their linked hands and shook her head. "We'll cover all of this again later. After we all," her eyes flicked back toward Derek, "get some rest and some time."

Jen pulled her hand away like it was just as difficult for her as for him. It felt wrong, being out of contact, but it also felt hella awkward asking to hold hands with his English teacher. 

Stiles waved goodbye and then stuck his hands in his pockets. He left, hoping some of his message had gotten through. If Cora and the Darach were working together, the local alpha werewolf needed to know about it.

~*~

Jen watched Stiles leave, ignoring the urge to call out to him, to stop him from leaving. Instead, she turned back to face Derek, whose frown had grown even deeper.

Derek pointed toward the door. "He's wrong. Cora doesn't have anything to do with this."

Jen wanted to argue the point, but she figured there were better times to broach the subject. They were both still reeling from having the Darach in their heads. Jen had only been under her spell a few times over the past few months. The druid had made Jen do _awful_ things, but she had to imagine it was different for Derek. He'd been under the Darach's spell for almost two weeks. Losing that much of your life had to be devastating.

"Of course not," Jen assured him, approaching carefully. She didn't think Derek would ever hurt her, but she knew better than to be careless around men who were very strong. "Stiles must have seen wrong. He's- he's a little paranoid, right?"

Derek's frown softened most of the way and he scoffed. "Yeah."

A while later, after Derek had wandered off, probably to go brood, Jen left the loft. When she got down to the parking area out back, she couldn’t tell if she was saddened or relieved to see that Stiles’ Jeep was gone. Probably relieved. She _should_ feel relieved, but she didn’t really want to unpack her mixed feelings, so she ignored them. Her therapist wouldn’t be happy, but it wasn’t like Jen could tell the woman that she had what amounted to a mystical bond with a teenage boy. Yeah, she might get committed for her own good if she admitted that.

Right now, Jen wasn’t so much worried about herself (as laughable as that state of affairs was), but about all the young people who had been there the night before. Maybe she put too many maternal feelings into her role as their teacher, but Jen couldn’t help but wonder about their welfare. She especially wanted to talk to one young woman.

It wasn’t Derek’s sister, who still hadn’t made an appearance at the loft, but texted back that she was fine and with Boyd every time Derek contacted her. To be honest, Cora made Jen uneasy. Maybe she just wasn’t used to young girls being so powerful, in which case Jen didn’t like her fear of Cora at all. Or maybe it was something else, something having to do with what Stiles had seen the night before.

No, Jen left the loft and drove toward where he records told her Lydia Martin lived.

When she got there, Jen knocked on the door, and was greeted by a slim middle-aged woman with blonde hair and big eyes. “Can I help you?” Jen noticed the woman’s designer clothes, her numerous rings, and how she wore just a touch too much makeup for a week day, nevermind a Sunday afternoon. 

“Uh, hi,” Jen said, sticking her hand toward the woman. “My name is Jennifer Blake. I’m Lydia’s English teacher.”

Furrowing her brow, the woman took Jen’s hand and shook it. “Lydia’s English teacher? What’s going on?”

“I just-” Jen realized that perhaps she should have come here with a better excuse than wanting to have a chat with this woman’s daughter. Then Jen remembered reading Lydia’s last term paper. “Um. Well, Lydia turned in a very well reasoned and advanced essay, and I’d like to talk to her about her plans for college. Maybe sway her toward the liberal arts. I would just talk to her at school, but you know what a heavy course load she’s taking. She said it was okay for me to stop by...”

“Oh!” the woman smiled brightly and stepped aside to let Jen into the house. “Well, we do know that our Lydia can be too smart for her own good sometimes.”

“No such thing,” Jen insisted with a laugh. She knew plenty of parents, especially from the last school at which she taught, who stifled their children’s academic pursuits, rather than encouraged them. Jen hated the attitude, but she also hated getting fired, so she toed the line as best she could.

Lydia walked into the foyer then, a very expensive-looking water glass in her hand. “Oh, Ms. Blake.”

“I’m here to have that talk about college,” Jen said, giving Lydia a significant look. Thankfully, Lydia caught on quickly with a sharp nod.

“Oh. College. Right. Let’s go into the living room.” Turning to the woman, Lydia took on an almost dismissive tone. “Thank you, Mima. I’ve got it from here.”

The blonde woman looked a little surprised, but she nodded and wandered away toward the back of the house while Lydia ushered Jen into the living room and pointed her at a huge overstuffed couch. Lydia sat in the high-backed chair across from the couch, tucking her feet underneath her. “What’s this _actually_ about?”

“Last night.” Jen watched Lydia’s expression as she stuck out her chin and nodded. “I wanted to see if you’re doing okay.”

A little too quickly, Lydia said, “I’m fine.”

“Derek and I both started to remember,” Jen told Lydia, watching her eyes dart sideways. “You-you haven’t remembered anything about being...”

“About being what? Robbed of my free will? Made to do horrible things to very nice people? To people who were sweet and- and called me _pretty_?” Lydia blinked a few times and sat up straighter, her voice hard and clear. “No. I don’t remember anything of the sort.”

“The boy in the pool?” Jen asked gently. Of all the people the Darach had sacrificed, there were only a few Jen couldn’t remember being involved with. The boy found at the pool was one of them. 

“He was in the lifeguard’s chair,” Lydia corrected, her gaze drifting off past Jen’s face to a thousand yards beyond. “I convinced him to get up there before I slit his throat. He thought it was a game.”

Jen got out of her seat and kneeled in front of Lydia instead. She wanted to reach out and touch Lydia’s hand or something, but Jen wasn’t sure her touch would be appreciated, so she kept her hands to herself. “That wasn’t you, Lydia. It was _her_.”

"Her. We know who she is?"

Jen explained what she knew about the Darach from their limited interaction the night before. "It took Stiles' and Scott's help, but I _knew_ how to get her out. It was a lot like ignoring the voices."

"The, um, voices?" Lydia asked, running her fingernail along the upholstery of her chair. 

Jen noticed the way Lydia wouldn't meet her eyes. "I know you hear them. The ghosts. You're a Medium. Like I am, Lydia. Deaton said so."

Rolling her eyes, Lydia huffed. "And everything Deaton says is true?"

"Lydia."

Lydia clenched her teeth and sighed through her nose, taking a long moment of silence. Finally, she met Jen's eyes. "You can control this? You can do something with it other than hear horrible things day in and day out?"

"I think so," Jen said. "Yes."

"Can you teach me what you did last night? How you made the Darach release me? I don't- I _hate_ not knowing. What I've done. Where I've been. I _hate_ it."

"I-I wouldn't know how to explain it," Jen admitted. When Lydia's eyes widened even as the furrow between her brows grew deeper, Jen hastily added, "But I'm sure we can figure it out. Deaton says it takes practice."

Nodding, Lydia recrossed her legs. "Can I get rid of Peter, too?" 

"Get rid of...?"

"The werewolf who bit me. He's. Still. In. My. Head." Leaning forward, Lydia dropped her voice and kept her eyes on the floor as she whispered. "He's still in my dreams."

"Um. I really don't know much more about this than you do, Lydia." She stood up and went back to the couch, putting some distance between them.

Lydia looked Jen up and down and she felt like she was being judged. And had come up short. "You have the dreams too, don't you?"

Jen's first instinct was to lie, but what was the point? She'd come here today to check in on Lydia, but also to finally connect with someone who was, in this aspect at least, the same as Jen. Lying was counterproductive. "Every night. I see him dying. I see him sick after he bit me. I see him young, and not-so-young. It's like when he bit me," Jen rubbed her waist, "he left behind a piece of his soul."

"Deucalion got sick when he bit you." Lydia wasn't asking a question, but stating a fact. "The same didn't happen to Peter. What was the variable?"

"I'm...older?" Jen laughed. "Maybe I'm past my expiration date."

"No. It was the Darach. That was the variable. It – she? – wasn't in town when I was bitten."

"You think she did something to me?" Jen asked, memories of what the Darach had made her do flitting through her head at whirlwind speeds. "Something that made Deucalion sick when he bit me. A-" Jen remembered what Deaton had said about Deucalion's motive for biting her. "A _prior_ connection."

Lydia sat up a little straighter, tilted her head slightly, and took a sharp breath. "Did you completely sever that connection last night, or is it still there? Can we use it to track the Darach back to her location?"

"I don't know," Jen replied with a shrug. "I wouldn't even know how to start looking, except to ask Dr. Deaton."

Lydia smiled brightly. "Then that's what we're gonna do."

~*~

Stiles grabbed Scott when he finally got back to the house. After he and Isaac made sure Allison made it home, they had all fallen asleep on her bed. Mr. Argent had to have seen them, but he hadn't woken them up and he'd been gone when the three of them finally got moving agian. "Where's Isaac?" Stiles asked. "I thought you two were attached at the lips these days."

Scott rolled his eyes and gave Stiles a playful shove. "He went over to Boyd's for something. He'll be here soon."

"Then I'm gonna make this quick." Stiles pushed the door of their room closed and turned to face Scott, who raised one eyebrow at him in question. "I saw something last night. Something important."

"Dude, if this is another porn site, I'm not interested."

"No, Scott." Stiles huffed and put his hands on Scott's shoulders. He used the grip to get Scott to sit down on his bed. "Listen." Stiles told Scott about how he'd seen Cora talking with the Darach. As the story continued, Scott's stomach dropped further and further down. "And I tried to tell Derek this morning, but he didn't believe me."

Scott made sure to give his brother a smile, but he was sure it didn't look as reassuring as he meant it to be. Cora working with the Darach? Derek having such a knee-jerk reaction against what Stiles had told him didn't surprise Scott at all. "I believe you, but it's pretty much your word against hers. Of course Derek would take his sister's side."

"But she showed up in Beacon Hills right when the Darach started sacrificing people. That's proof!"

"That's not proof," Scott argued gently, patting Stiles on the shoulder. "And you know it. We'll just have to find real proof."

"Real proof," Stiles nodded. "And what about everyone else in the meantime? We can't let them go around trusting Cora." Scott thought he heard, "Like I did," in Stiles' voice, and he tried to think of how he would feel if he found out either Isaac or Allison had been working with a homicidal druid. He'd feel pretty shitty, so Scott pulled his brother into a hug.

"Don't worry about Allison and Isaac. I'll talk to them."

Scott watched as Stiles pulled out of the hug and rolled his eyes, but his shoulders looked lower than they had been a minute ago, more relaxed. "Okay. I can talk to Lydia. And, well, and Boyd."

Watching the way Stiles' eyes flicked downward when he said Boyd's name, Scott's heart ached for his brother. "Was it, I mean-" Scott tried to say, feeling more than a little awkward. "You're dating. Have you- do you know what you're gonna do?"

"I don't know." Stiles shrugged. "Try to get Boyd alone and talk to him? It's gonna have to be during school. Cora is _always_ with him otherwise."

Scott frowned. He hadn't noticed how infrequently he saw Boyd without Cora by his side, except at school. He'd noticed how often he'd seen Boyd and Stiles together at school, but that was his duty as a brother. However, Scott hadn't really been asking that many questions about Stiles' relationship, and wasn't that part of his duty as a brother as well? And his duty as Stiles' best friend? 

And since it was Scott's duty to ask about Stiles' significant others, wasn't it also his duty to ask, "Does Cora really _like_ Boyd that much, or has she just been keeping an eye on him. And on you?"

"Fuck," Stiles sighed. "I don't know. I mean, she's my _girlfriend_ – or she was – and I barely know anything about her. She said she didn't like talking about herself. She said she liked _me_ , dude."

Scott's heart hurt and he felt like there was nothing he could do to help Stiles through this. Except maybe try to get him drunk, but that was more of a Stiles-move than a Scott-move. Instead, he weakly offered, "Maybe she wasn't lying about liking you."

Stiles snorted. "Yeah, right."

Scott patted Stiles a few more times on the shoulder, for good measure, and did what any good Stilinski brother would do. He made Stiles the biggest, grossest sandwich he could, given the state of their refrigerator. Scott left the sandwich, and a chocolate milk, on Stiles' desk before he left to go pick up Isaac from Boyd's house.

When Isaac jumped on the back of Scott's motorcycle, Scott asked him, "Was Cora with you guys?"

"No," Isaac said, scooting further against Scott's back than wholly appropriate. It made Scott smile. "Why?"

"Oh, just…" Scott said, judging the distance between them and Boyd's house and deciding any werewolves inside would definitely be able to hear them. "Just … Stiles was looking for her earlier."

Isaac shrugged, kissed Scott's cheek, and pulled his helmet on. Scott pushed the matter to the back of his mind and focused on trying to obey the rules of the road while Isaac was pressed against him and brushing his hand over Scott's nipple now and again. At one point, Scott almost pulled into an alley so he could get revenge by sticking his hands down Isaac's pants or something, but he'd made a promise to Allison that their first time together, it would be all three of them or not at all. That promise had just about killed him over the past two weeks, but it would be worth it eventually.

When they got to Allison's apartment building and her dad's car wasn't in the garage, Scott grinned at Isaac and pumped his fist. "Yes!"

"This finally happening?" Isaac asked, slipping his hand into Scott's back pocket and squeezing a little.

"Yeah, I hope so," Scott replied, pulling Isaac toward the elevator. As soon as the doors closed, Scott let Isaac crowd him against the back wall of the elevator, pressed together from hips to lips. Scott kissed Isaac like they hadn't seen each other in weeks, much less hours. Isaac's lips were hard against Scott's, his chin lightly stubbled, and his tongue sweet and warm. Isaac felt so different than Allison - bonier, taller, more imposing - but Scott loved the differences. He felt more than lucky to have both of them in his life, but also that both of them had feelings for him.

"God, Scott!" Isaac sighed, pressing his lips haphazardly away from Scott's mouth and toward his neck, hands hard at Scott's waist. Scott pushed at Isaac's shirt, trying to get at the skin underneath, but not having much luck.

And then he opened his eyes and saw they were almost at Allison's floor. "Isaac," Scott said, pushing at him, but allowing one more deep kiss on the mouth. "Isaac, we've got-"

The elevator doors opened to reveal a pair of old ladies, one who covered her mouth and blushed, and one who laughed. Isaac sheepishly pulled away from Scott and edged out of the elevator past them, Scott following closely behind. The ladies got into the elevator and as the doors closed, Scott heard one tell the other, "Remember when we were like that, Flo?"

The other lady cackled loudly. "Do I ever!"

Scott wasn't sure whether to feel touched or grossed out, so he settled for a combination of the two as he folded his hand into Isaac's. They reached Allison's door a few steps later.

Allison opened the door and pulled both Scott and Isaac in by the fronts of their shirts. Scott kicked the door closed behind them. "My dad's not going to be home for hours." Allison let go of Scott's shirt and pulled Isaac into a deep, filthy-looking kiss. If Scott hadn't been hard since the motorcycle ride, he would be now. 

Scott pressed himself against Allison as he passed them, breathing in deeply the scent of her skin, and closing his hand gently around her arm. He led them both back toward Allison's room, but only got halfway there before Allison turned from Isaac and tackled Scott with a kiss. Scott stumbled backward and hit the wall, but he didn't care. Getting kissed by Allison, getting to hold her close and put his hands in her hair again, was the only thing that mattered. Well, that and the way Isaac put his hand over Scott's on her back and kissed Allison's neck, his forehead brushing Scott's jaw.

Despite everything going on, despite the alphas and the Darach, and Cora, Scott felt at peace. He felt like he was finally where he was supposed to be.

~*~

[Such Selfish Prayers](http://archiveofourown.org/works/990963), an NC-17 rated interlude

~*~

Scott lay with his head on Isaac's chest and his hand playing with Allison's long hair. Isaac breathed slowly under Scott's ear, almost like he could be asleep. Allison had her eyes closed, but every time Scott brushed her scalp with his fingers, her heartbeat sped up and she smiled.

Scott hated to break the moment, but he'd put this off long enough as it was. He needed to tell the others what Stiles had seen. Clearing his throat, Scott said, "Guys?"

Allison looked up, but Isaac startled, taking a sharp breath through his nose and opening his eyes. "Mm?"

Scott sat up, trying not to feel too self-conscious about his nakedness. It was Isaac and Allison, after all. "It's about last night. Stiles saw something."

Allison sat up as well, but she kept the sheet wrapped around herself, which Scott thought was completely unfair (but totally her right to do, he just loved her boobs so much). "What did he see? Was it during the fight you guys told me about?"

"No, it was afterward," Scott said, watching Isaac slide himself back so he could sit up as well. "He went to go find Cora, who had disappeared, remember?"

"Yeah." Isaac nodded. "Back behind the bowling lanes. We lost the Darach, I never saw Cora back there."

"Stiles did." Scott took a deep breath, then let it out as he admitted, "He saw Cora talking to the Darach. Like they were friends or allies or something."

Allison's eyes went wide and she put a hand to her mouth. Isaac's eyes went wide, too, but he scrambled out of the bed, picking up his underwear and pulling them on as he said, "No. Stiles doesn't know what he's talking about."

"Why would he lie?" Allison asked, leaving her sheet behind as she got up and put a hand on Isaac's arm. "She's his girlfriend. If anything, I'd expect him _not_ to say anything if he'd seen something."

"What if they had a falling out?" Isaac asked, but he returned Allison's gesture. Scott stood up to join them, putting his hands in each of theirs. "What if this is revenge for Cora, I don't know, not putting out or something?" Isaac gave Scott's hand a squeeze before pulling his arms back and wrapping them around himself.

"Stiles wouldn't do that. And he wouldn't accuse someone of a crime they didn't commit."

Allison tilted her head. "Just like he wouldn't, I don't know, tell your dad he'd seen Derek kill someone?"

Scott tried his best not to let Allison's question unnerve him, but it was difficult. "That was my fault. I told him to say that. I thought it wouldn't matter. I thought Derek was dead."

Isaac shook his head. "I still don't believe it. Maybe Stiles saw Cora talking to someone else."

"Someone else wearing a creepy mask made out of skin?" Scott couldn't help the incredulous tone of his voice. "I don't–"

Scott cut himself off as he heard the front door open. He dropped his voice to a whisper. "Shit! Allison, your dad is home!"

Allison's jaw dropped for half a second before she sprang into action, diving for the pile of clothes they'd left near her bedroom door, which she all but slammed shut. 

Scott knew they were all dead if Mr. Argent caught him and Isaac here, like this, so he scanned the room for his boxers. When he didn't find them, he grabbed his pants and shoved his legs into them. His first instinct was to go for the window, but when he got there, Scott realized that Allison now lived on the eighth floor and the fire escape was out the other window.

Scott was grabbing his shirt from the floor and Isaac's bare arm with the other when Mr. Argent knocked on the door. "Allison?"

The door started to open, but Allison smacked her hands against it. "Dad! I'm changing!"

"Allison, there are clothes in the hallway. Clothes that don't belong to either of us. Open the door."

Scott hung his head in defeat and pulled his shirt on, Isaac finished stuffing his arms into his sleeves and hopped into his pants, while Allison looked down and then went straight for the robe hanging on the back of her door. When everyone was decent, Allison cringed at Scott and Isaac, and then opened the door.

Mr. Argent stood on the other side, an unamused look on his face and Scott's boxers dangling from one finger. "Would you three care to explain?"

"Wardrobe malfunction?" Isaac offered, resting his forearm on Scott's shoulder, like he was trying to look casual. Scott had no delusions that it was actually working. 

Allison turned to look at Isaac, raising one eyebrow; and Mr. Argent gave the same look. The similarities between their expressions were creepy and cool at the same time. Mr. Argent added a frown to his and said, "I'm taking you boys home."

"That's okay, Mr. Argent. I brought my bike. I can dri-"

"I'm taking you boys home," Mr. Argent repeated, stepping past Allison and dropping the boxers into Scott's hands. "And I'm going to have a chat with your parents, Mr. Stilinski."

Scott gulped. 

"Dad." Allison came around, getting between Mr. Argent and Scott and Isaac. "Dad, we're not children. We weren't doing anything wrong. You don't get to tell me I'm in charge in one breath and _threaten_ my boyfriends in the next!"

"You know," Isaac said, taking Scott's hand and leading the way toward the door, "maybe we'll just..."

Mr. Argent held up a finger and Scott froze, holding Isaac back. "We are not hunters anymore, Allison. You three are in so much-"

"Oh, we're not hunters anymore?" Allison crossed her arms over her chest. "So staying out all the time, carrying guns and other weapons, that's just what we do? You're not looking for the Darach or anything, right?"

"Just like you're not getting involved with fighting the alpha pack? You called me there last night, Allison."

"You came, so..." Allison stared at her father, who stared right back. Scott kind of wished he was anywhere else.

Still staring at his daughter, Mr. Argent said, "I'm still talking to their parents." He turned to Scott and Isaac. "Go home. I'll be right behind you."

Then Mr. Argent left the room. Scott wanted to give Allison a kiss goodbye, but Mr. Argent hadn't gone much further than outside the room before stopping. He settled for giving Allison a smile and mouthing, "Love you," at her.

Allison smiled back, but with this worried edge to her eyes. Scott didn't like it.

In the ride down the elevator to the parking garage, Scott took Isaac's hand and asked him, "How're you doing?"

Isaac wrapped his arms around Scott shoulders. "Except for getting caught by our girlfriend's father, pretty damn good." Isaac grinned and leaned forward, placing a kiss on Scott's lips. Scott kissed him back and couldn't help the smile that spread across his face as they parted. 

"Even if we do get in trouble," Scott said, running his hand up under Isaac's sweater. "It was worth it, to me, at least."

"Me too," Isaac replied, and Scott wished Allison had been with them too, or that they could stay over with her again and never have to leave.

The elevator doors opened and Scott took Isaac's hand as they walked toward where they'd parked Scott's motorcycle. The ritual of putting on helmets and getting situated with Isaac pressed against Scott's back, his arms around Scott's waist, was starting to feel happily routine. Scott tried to calculate whether there was enough seat on the motorcycle for Allison to ride with them, too. Because that would be pretty hot.

Scott didn't notice Mr. Argent's car behind them on the drive home, but he pulled up just a few seconds after Scott parked in the garage. Scott thought about escaping through the garage door and up into Isaac's room before Mr. Argent made it to the door. But then Mr. Argent gave them a dad-glare of epic proportions and crooked his finger for them to join him at the front door.

Looking at Isaac, and gauging him about as nervous as Scott felt, Scott took Isaac's hand again and tugged him toward Mr. Argent. "Time to face the music."

"Your dad's cruiser is in the garage," Isaac whispered in Scott's ear. "We could make a break for it."

"It'll be fine," Scott assured his boyfriend. "He won't kick you out. I promise."

It didn't take long for Dad to answer the door after Mr. Argent rang the bell. His eyes flicked from Mr. Argent, to Scott and Isaac, and then back again. Dad crossed his arms over the sweater he liked to wear when he wasn't in uniform, and said, "Mr. Argent. How can I help you?"

"I found these two," Argent replied, thumbing over his shoulder at them. "In bed with my daughter."

"Oh." Dad cleared his throat and jerked his head to gesture Scott and Isaac into the house. Once they were past him, Dad pointed up the stairs. Scott followed orders right away, but he had to tug at Isaac to get him to come along. Now was not the time to pick a fight. Scott heard as Dad turned back to Mr. Argent and said, "You know how it is. Young love."

"All due respect, Sheriff," Argent countered. "But this is my daughter we're talking about. I don't want her to have to worry about the consequences of sex among everything else that's been happening. I would appreciate you keeping your sons away from her."

Dad raised his voice and called back into the house, "Scott? Were you guys being safe?"

"Yes, sir!" Scott called back, pausing just around the corner at the top of the stairs, so he could still peer around the corner at what was going on. Isaac pressed his back against the wall next to Scott and wrapped his fingers around Scott's.

Addressing Mr. Argent, Dad said in a calm voice, "See? It's fine."

"It's not-"

"Look, I know you want what's best for your daughter," Dad said, stepping forward and putting his hand on Mr. Argent's shoulder. "But you know kids. If you don't teach them how to be safe, and if you don't give them a safe place to be, they're just gonna go do it in their cars out at the Preserve. I root kids out of there every night of the week, Chris. There's no stopping it."

Mr. Argent looked pissed, but he didn't push Dad's hand away. "That's easy for you to say. You have _sons_ , John. Three of them, now. You don't _know_ what it's like having a daughter."

"Allison seems like the kind of girl who can take care of herself," Dad countered. "And I've raised my sons to be respectful. You don't have to worry about Scott."

"And Isaac?"

Dad sighed. "Scott'll keep him in line." He paused for a moment and Scott watched as Dad ran his hand from Mr. Argent's shoulder down his arm. "You don't look so good, Chris. You wanna come in for a beer? Take a load off?"

Mr. Argent turned like he might go back to his car, but then he nodded and turned back. "Yeah. Yeah, okay." He came into the house and Dad closed the door behind him before leading him back into the house.

Scott turned to Isaac and asked, "What just happened?"

"Your dad is the ultimate wingman," Isaac said, his eyebrows high on his forehead like he was impressed. Then one brow dropped, while the other remained arched. He tilted his head like he was listening to what was going on downstairs. "And I think he's hitting on Allison's dad."

"Ew," Scott said, suddenly much less interested in any conversation the two adults might be having. "Let's go watch a movie or something. Very loudly."

"Yeah," Isaac agreed, taking Scott's hand as he pushed away from the wall and started walking back toward their bedrooms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the lack of a schedule lately, folks. Pretty much I'm employed full time, I'm a mother, and I said yes to too many big bangs and other writing challenges. I've been writing this one whenever I have the time available and I'm determined to finish it. Reviews and kudos certainly help with motivation, but if you're just here to read, that's perfectly cool too!


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang try to protect themselves from the Darach's return and a double birthday party occurs!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, it's been four months since I last updated this fic! In the mean time, I've written three big bangs and a 15k response to a writing challenge. Hopefully I'm back on track for updating this guy regularly, at least until I finish the main plotline I have worked out. Thanks to pilgimkitty and bleep0bleep for the beta read :)

"Thanks for agreeing to meet me," John said as Chris approached, waving at the bartender to get her to come over. "I thought maybe you wouldn't."

Chris smiled at the way John rubbed the back of his neck and resituated himself on his bar stool every five seconds. "It was no problem. Really. When Allison and I left the group we used to run with—"

"Your hunter buddies?"

"Yeah," Chris agreed, taking a minute to order his beer from the bartender. While she was pouring his pint, Chris continued. "When we left, it sort of meant giving up my entire social circle. I don't really know anyone else in town."

John made a grunt of acknowledgement and took another swallow of his beer. "Feel free to not answer." He played with the label on his longneck. "But I know your wife was killed earlier this year. What happened to your other partner?"

"Oh." Chris gave a half smile and picked at the label on his beer bottle. "Ben died a long time ago. Allison doesn't even really remember him."

John made a sympathetic noise and squeezed Chris' shoulder. Chris couldn't help but lean into the touch. "Can I ask what happened? Was it," John leaned in closer and whispered, "werewolves?"

Chuckling, Chris shook his head. Remembering that day wasn't something he found enjoyable in the least, but the memory came to him unbidden at odd times. Picking up the dry cleaning, sorting out the gun cabinets, watching the way Allison's laugh looked just like Ben's. "It was a yeti. I had to put it down."

"Now you're telling me yetis exist?" John laughed as he shook his head. "What's next? Unicorns? Mermaids?"

"Never say never." Chris shrugged and took a swallow of his beer.

Shaking his head, John fell into silence for a moment. It surprised Chris how content he felt just sitting here. It _had_ been a long time since he'd had real friends. He'd forgotten what it felt like.

"You know, they didn't tell me right away. My whole family _knew_ , and none of them thought I could handle it." Pointing the neck of his beer at Chris, John continued, "I bet _you_ knew since birth."

"No," Chris laughed, amused by the indignance in John's voice. "They didn't tell me until I was seventeen. I had to help keep the truth away from my sister until she was old enough to know."

"Well, that's one thing. You were a child. I'm the damn _Sheriff_ , no thanks to them." Finishing off his beer, John flagged down the bartender. "Whiskey, on the rocks. No, wait." John sighed and met Chris' eyes for a moment. "Better stick with a beer. Melissa's gonna have to come give me a ride as it is."

The bartender nodded and raised her eyes at Chris, who shook his head. Unlike the Sheriff, he didn't have anyone at home to pick him up, except Allison, and he wasn't going to call her to a bar late at night. He had to hold onto some of his parenting lines in the sand, even though Allison was technically in charge now.

"Don't be too hard on them. There are good reasons for keeping this information secret." He leaned forward, putting a hand on John's arm. "When you know about these things, it becomes almost impossible not to get involved. I mean, Allison and I were supposed to be done for good, now look at us. The first evil Druid who pops up and we're both investigating without telling each other what we're doing. You were better off not knowing."

"Eh." Shrugging, John accepted his new beer from the bartender. "At least now I know why I'm not closing cases. I used to have a ninety percent close rate, you know. I just got reelected last year. Now what am I gonna tell the voters? Sorry, but Halloween came to town?"

"Packs of rabid wild dogs," Chris suggested, smiling when John gave him a disbelieving look. Chris broke into laughter first, but John wasn't far behind.

"Yeah, that'll go over _great_." The mood between them fell and sombered, and eventually John sighed. "Seriously, though. How do you do it?"

"Do what?" Chris took another sip of his barely-touched beer. 

"Face things like werewolves and monsters all the time?" John glanced up once, briefly, his brows drawn together, before returning his gaze to the bottle in his hands. 

Chris cleared his throat to buy some time. It was easier talking to Allison about this sort of thing, because he knew what it was like bringing young people into the fold. Ultimately, Chris shrugged. "It's been my whole life. I was seventeen when my parents told me about our family history, but they'd been training me since birth. When my mother was alive, we had a Code."

"Had?" John asked, his eyebrows up and furrowed together. 

"We're meant to destroy werewolves who cause harm to humans. If they kept themselves in line, we'd leave them be." Chris picked at the label on his bottle. "I've only met a few werewolves capable of keeping themselves in line."

"My son?" John asked, his voice seeped in hope.

Chris nodded. "Yes. I don't know how Scott did it. Usually teenage boys handle the bite very poorly. Unless they have some sort of help, they—"

"Stiles." John rolled his eyes. "Stiles would have been with him every step of the way." He took a deep breath and let it out in a rush, scrubbing his face with one hand. "You know, I'm actually terrified of what will happen when those two have to start living separate lives. I was never _that_ close to my siblings."

"My sister was ten years younger than me." Taking a long swallow of his beer, Chris let it flow past his tongue and down his throat, so he wouldn't taste the bitterness. "We were never close, even before my mother died."

"Sorry for your loss," John said, scooting a little closer and nudging Chris' shoulder with his own.

The gesture made Chris' ears and neck heat up, and his heart beat a little faster. He knew John could be flirtatious, but it wasn't going anywhere. Chris still needed time to deal with Victoria's death, and John and Melissa had been a couple for almost ten years, as far as Chris could tell. Maybe like he and Victoria after Ben's death, they never wanted a third.

Besides, Chris' daughter was dating the Stilinskis' son. Even if Chris wanted to flirt back, it would be weird, right? Right.

"Thanks. I appreciate that." Looking around again to make sure his surroundings hadn't changed in the last five minutes, Chris sighed. "It wasn't even a werewolf. Drunk driver. Kate was supposed to take over as leader, but she was so young. Broke the Code. Everything fell apart."

"The Hale fire." John's mouth set in a tight line. "I worked that case. Both times. I'm sorry your sister was involved."

Chris laughed and took a long pull from his beer. "Not just _involved_. She was the instigator. Kate and her girlfriend at the time. Liz something. It was their plan." Chris had been wondering the past few months whether the plan had actually been Kate's or if Gerard had been involved too, but he didn't want to confront that thought this sober.

Chris took another sip.

"If you gave me a last name, I could find her," John offered, running one hand up and down Chris' back. Chris leaned into the touch before he realized what he was doing. "Maybe if there was justice served, you could put it behind you."

Shaking his head, Chris said, "Nah. Liz was the kind of girl you wouldn't find unless she wanted to be found. Hunter-born, off the grid."

John shrugged and drew his hand away, making Chris' back feel cold in its absence. "Probably better I focus my efforts on this shit storm of a cover-up I need to orchestrate."

"Lucky for you," Chris grinned, finishing off his pint. "I have experience with this sort of thing." Maybe it was the atmosphere of the bar, or the beer, or the way Chris wanted John to touch him again, but Chris didn't stop himself from winking.

John chuckled and returned Chris' smile before calling out to the bartender for another round.

~*~

"Thanks for coming," Scott said as soon as he heard Derek's footsteps. 

Derek approached out of the shadows, his eyes reflecting red in the darkness. "You said it was important."

Scott opened the door behind him and held it so Derek could enter the veternarian's office first. Derek paused in the waiting room, and Scott brushed past him. He led Derek back to Exam room #3, where Deaton waited.

Deaton looked up when they entered the room. "Derek. It's good to see you."

One of Derek's eyebrows twitched upward. "I'd say the same, but we only see each other when things are going wrong, so..."

Deaton gave Derek half a smile and a sharp nod. "So it is."

After watching Derek and Deaton stare at each other for a few seconds, Scott said, "Well, I thought we should talk about the Darach."

Eyes rolling toward the ceiling, Derek sighed. "You want to talk about how there's a killer Druid in town? Maybe it's someone we already know." Derek smacked both of his hands down onto the exam table and stared at Deaton.

"Derek!" Scott cried, stepping between the two of them. "It's not Deaton. Stiles says it's a girl. The Darach is a girl."

"Stiles doesn't know what he's talking about," Derek snarled, but he stepped back from the table and crossed his arms over his chest, finally looking away from Deaton.

"Assuming the Darach is _not_ me," Deaton said, sharing an amused look with Scott, "let's go over what we know. The Darach is sacrificing people, she or he has been co-opting the bodies of several individuals to do so, and Derek has been one of those bodies."

Derek huffed again, but he didn't say anything.

God, this was almost worse than the rate occasions when Scott's parents stopped talking to each other, but had to be in the same room. And yet again, Scott was the one who had to get the ball rolling. "Dr. Deaton thinks he can protect us from being possessed or whatever by the Darach, but he needs more information."

"What kind of information?" Derek's eyes sought out Deaton again, but with much less of an accusatory glare. 

“Basically,” Deaton said, turning to reach for a set of jars on the counter behind him, “I need to know what it felt like.”

“What _what_ felt like?” It didn’t escape Scott how clipped and forced Derek’s words sounded. 

“Being under the Darach’s control. You say you remember some of the time, now that you’ve had a chance to reflect?”

Derek’s jaw clenched for a moment and Scott held his breath, almost sure that Derek was about to leave without answering Deaton’s question. After just a moment, though, Derek’s jaw loosened and he looked down as he nodded. “Yeah. Some of it. The worst parts, probably.”

“Violent acts leave a stain on the soul.” Deaton didn’t sound surprised, and the longer Scott looked at Derek, the more he could see the weight of those stains. Well, underneath the asshole exterior, anyway. It made Scott’s heart hurt and he almost reached out to lay a hand on Derek’s shoulder before he thought better of it. “Especially if you don’t give yourself the time to grieve their necessity. You know that better than anyone, don’t you, Derek?”

Scott really hated the way Deaton could dance around a topic, though he had to admit it came in handy when they needed to discuss something supernatural in the presence of a client or someone. He supposed it wasn’t any of his business what violence Derek had committed in the past, but the alphas coming after Derek had done horrible things to Scott’s friends. Scott was involved with Derek’s past now, whether he liked it or not.

Derek sighed. “I remember feeling like I was following my body, instead of being in it, like I’d been displaced. I remember the feel of things, the smells, the taste of his blood, but it was all so… Distant. Muted. I don’t know.”

“It’s something, right?” Scott encouraged, looking to Deaton for his reaction. 

Deaton kept his eyes on Derek expectantly, but when Derek didn’t offer anything else, Deaton spoke. “It’s a fantastic start. Now, can you tell me whether it felt more like someone else was running the controls, so to speak, or if your body was acting on its own.”

Derek’s brows cinched together. “On its own,” he murmured, tilting his head to one side, his gaze far off in the distance. “Like, I had a _purpose_ , but there was no one else there. It was just me outside my body, and then my body with its purpose.”

“Good,” Deaton said, his voice cheerful. “That’s good, Derek. I think I know what we’re dealing with now.”

Scott watched Derek’s face open up with surprise, and then a little flash of pride. Scott hid his own smile at the sight. Focusing his attention on Deaton, Scott asked, “Is there something we can do to fight it? Protect ourselves? Make sure the Darach can’t do something like that to one of us again?”

“There is, but with one caveat.”

Of course there was a caveat.

Deaton ignored Derek’s scoff. “I can make a talisman for each of us, but the wearer needs to believe in its power. Without belief, it won’t work.”

“That’s…okay.” Scott nodded and clapped his hands before rubbing them together. “That’s okay! We’ll make sure everyone believes. How do we make these talismans?”

“It will take some time to get them right, but I’ll show you,” Deaton said eagerly, pulling several bottles of herbs out of the set. When Scott looked up, Derek was gone, his light footsteps retreating quickly.

Scott waited until he was sure Derek couldn’t hear him any more before asking, “Do you think he’s going to be okay?”

Tapping on the lid of one of the jars, Deaton’s eyes went to the exam room door. “I hope so.”

~*~

Stiles readjusted the cord around his neck, settling the little cloth bag full of voodoo or whatever in the middle of his chest. He'd had it tucked under his shirt since Scott gave it to him the night before, telling Stiles, "Trust me. It'll work."

Stiles reached over to the passengers' seat of his Jeep, and the two talismans he had lying there. He probably should have approached Boyd at school, without Cora, but every time Stiles tried to talk to him lately, Boyd started walking the other direction. Stiles would give this one more shot, because even if he knew Cora was trouble, and he was pretty pissed about her lying to everyone, Stiles still cared about Boyd. 

The other talisman was for Cora, not because Stiles thought she needed protection from her friend, the Darach. It was more of a test. If Cora took the talisman without arguing, maybe there was hope for her yet. Maybe she didn't trust the Darach as much as it seemed she did. Maybe she could be flipped to their side and tell them how to defeat the Darach.

See, as pissed as Stiles felt at Cora, he wasn't about to go burning bridges he might need, just because of a point of pride. Survival and doing the right thing were both more important than pride. Stiles' parents had taught him that.

Scooping up both talismans, Stiles hopped out of his car and tried not to trudge too much while he walked up to Boyd's front door. He rang the doorbell and waited. After a little shuffling on the other side, a youngish looking man opened it. Boyd had mentioned his parents getting remarried a few years prior (after all the drama surrounding his sister's disappearance and the toll it had taken on his parents' marriage and their divorce from his mima) but he never mentioned the guy being so young. "Uh, hey," Stiles said, trying not to notice how perfectly symmetrical the guy's face was or how tight his pants were. "I'm here to see Boyd. Well, Vernon, I guess. You're all Boyds, huh?"

The man chuckled - jesus, were those teeth real? - and pulled back, making room for Stiles to enter the house. "You must be Stiles. We've heard a lot about you."

"You have?" Stiles asked, blinking in shock. "I- Well, I kind of thought Boy- _Vernon_ wouldn't have much to say about me. Oh, unless it was Cora doing the talking. Not that she talks a lot either. _Has_ she been staying here? I would have asked her, but frankly she scares me a little." _And can probably hear me talking right now. Fantastic._

Laughing, the man said, "I'm Wallace. And no, Vernon has been the one with the motormouth. Stiles says this. Stiles says that. Stiles liked that movie a lot. He seriously won't shut up."

"I-" Stiles shook his head. "Wow. Okay. So, is Vernon here, or…?"

Wallace pointed toward the hallway behind him. "Yeah. He and Cora are back in his room. Keep the door open."

Caught off guard, Stiles stumbled over his words. "Y-yeah. Yeah. Right. Of-of course."

Stiles ignored the way the tips of his ears burned as he made his way past Wallace and back into the Boyds' house. It wasn't hard to find the bedroom with the slightly open door that had a "Do not enter" sign plastered to it. Stiles knocked quietly as he opened the door. "Hey, guys?"

They were both sitting on Boyd's bed, Cora up against the headboard and Boyd at the foot of the bed. School papers covered the bedspread between them. Both of them had already been looking up by the time Stiles opened the door. Damn werewolf hearing.

"Stiles," Cora said, her voice cold. Shit. "What brings you here? Come to accuse me of more evil plans?"

"No," Stiles replied, pouting a little as he took a step into the room. He took both talismans out of his jacket pocket, holding them out to Boyd. "Deaton made these. They protect against the Darach getting in our heads. I thought you should each have one."

Boyd started reaching out to take them from Stiles, but Cora shifted forward, putting aside her books and sliding off the bed. "Don't take those, Boyd. They're probably so Stiles can spy on us. You trying to prove your ridiculous theory to everyone, Stilinski?"

"They're not-!" Stiles' frustration got the better of him and he huffed loudly. "I'm not trying to _spy_ on you! Whatever you think you're doing with the Darach, I just want you to be safe! I want _Boyd_ to be safe!"

"Boyd's right here," Boyd said from where he still sat on the bed.

Stiles met Boyd's eyes and asked, "Don't you want to keep the Darach out of your head? She got to Derek, she can get to anyone."

Cora scoffed, but Stiles kept his eyes on Boyd's, trying to will him into switching over to Stiles' side. Boyd stared at Stiles for a long moment before finally averting his eyes over to Cora's. Standing from the bed, Boyd put his arm around Cora's shoulders. "I think you should probably go, Stiles."

Hoping Boyd might be kidding, Stiles spent a moment watching Boyd's face, looking for some sign that he wasn't serious. It never came. "Wow. Wow, okay. You're just going to completely ignore my warning that if you don't take these and wear them, something bad is going to happen."

"Is that a threat?" Cora crossed her arms under her breasts and took half a step closer to Stiles. Looking into her eyes, Stiles became convinced that he hadn't jumped to conclusions earlier. Cora really was working for the Darach. 

And it meant that he probably shouldn't let her get her hands on the talismans. Who knew what kind of counter-spell-curse-thing a Darach could come up with to circumnavigate Deaton's talisman? Shoving the two extra talismans back into his jacket pocket, Stiles looked Cora right in the eye as he said, "No. It's not. And we're officially over, in case you were wondering."

"I wasn't."

As Stiles turned to leave, he caught a slightly pained look on Boyd's face and it made Stiles' chest hurt, sharp and deep. Stiles half wished, as he made a speedy retreat from Boyd's room and then house, that there was some way to convince Boyd to come with him, to break up with Cora, too. Stiles just didn't see it. Boyd had his chance. He could have taken Stiles' side and taken the talisman Stiles tried to hand him, but he didn't.

It was over.

As Stiles got to his Jeep, he had to wipe the tears from his eyes so he could see well enough to get the key in the lock. This was dumb. Stiles should be fucking furious, not sad. It wasn't like he even dated Boyd and Cora all that long. Sure, there'd been kissing, but not much else. It wasn't like Stiles was in love.

He'd find someone else. Soon. 

The cynical voice in Stiles' head asked, _Who? Your freaking English teacher?_

Stiles told that voice to shut up as he started the Jeep and left. Just because there hadn't ever been anyone else interested in Stiles, didn't mean the trend had to continue. Right?

Stiles probably wouldn't even have to die as a virgin.

~*~

Derek heard and smelled Peter approaching the loft before he knocked on the door, but the fact that he did knock put Derek a little more at ease. He didn't _trust_ Peter, but Derek thought he had a better handle on Peter's moods now that he was Peter's alpha. Politeness was a good sign, though Derek knew better than to turn his back to Peter.

Sliding open the loft door, Derek asked Peter, "Have a nice trip?"

"I did, actually," Peter said, slipping past Derek and into the loft. "It's amazing what seeing one's long-lost family does for one's mood."

Derek didn't tell Peter that he couldn't remember Peter leaving, only that Derek was supposed to keep the fact that Peter's wife was still alive a secret. "Every time I see a long-lost relative they try to kill me, so..."

Peter smirked, approaching Derek and stopping a few feet short. "Aren't you curious why I came back?"

Derek was, but as always he guarded his words around Peter. "Janet's alpha didn't want you?"

Holding a hand to his chest like he was offended, Peter said, "Why must you wound me with your words, Derek? No." Peter's voice changed, suddenly serious enough that Derek's stomach dropped. "Jan had some insights into our Darach problem. Derek, you need to solidify your power base, make sure you have at least three betas loyal to you. More, if you can accomplish it."

Derek frowned. "I have three betas."

"Oh!" Peter laughed, coming forward and clapping a hand on Derek's shoulder. "Oh, Derek! You barely have _one_. Isaac isn't yours anymore, he's Scott's. Erica's dead."

Derek ignored the sharp pain in his chest at the mention of Erica's death. Her loss still felt like a fresh scar, tight and restricting around his heart. "Cora," Derek said, trying to sound sure of his sister's loyalty, when he felt anything but. "You."

"While I appreciate the honorable mention, I'm afraid there's still the lingering question of murder between us." Peter smirked at Derek. "Now, I'm trying to forgive you for that, Derek. I really am. But I don't think you should count on me joining your pack in the short window you have left."

Derek scoffed. If anyone should have been begging for forgiveness, it was Peter. Derek could probably win Cora's full loyalty without too much trouble, unless the things Stiles said about her were true. If Derek couldn't trust her, she didn't count. And Boyd was with her, which put his bond with Derek in question, too. The only thing left that Derek could think of was appealing to Scott again, because Scott would bring Isaac back with him.

"You could always make a few more betas," Peter said with a sly grin that Derek didn't trust at all. "I know Stiles would make a fantastic werewolf."

Derek scoffed. He couldn’t remember everything from the bowling alley, because he’d still been mostly under the Darach’s control, but Derek remembered seeing Stiles as a substantial threat. Jennifer told him about the spells she and Stiles had done together, with Scott’s help, and Derek was pretty sure Stiles wouldn’t be able to do them anymore if he was a werewolf. Was that Peter’s end game? Turn Stiles into a werewolf to _take away_ some of Stiles’ power? Or maybe Peter’s suggestion was just the product of a more mundane, and creepier, desire on Peter’s part.

Derek met Peter’s eyes, studying his face to try to discern his motives. Despite Peter’s insistence that he wasn’t Derek’s beta, Derek could still feel some emotions coming from him. The mixture of worry and anticipation wasn’t surprising, but it didn’t help Derek trust Peter’s motives either.

“I’ll think about it,” Derek said, flicking his eyes at the door behind Peter’s back. 

Peter nodded once, a grin on his face, before leaving, closing the door behind him. Derek let out a breath he hadn’t known he was holding.

~*~

“So,” Dad said a few weeks after Stiles broke up with his girlfriend and boyfriend. “What do you want to do for your birthday?”

Stiles chuckled humorlessly. On top of being single, again, Stiles had to watch Scott be insanely happy with Isaac and Allison. Focusing on his school work and researching ways to find the Darach were the only things keeping Stiles going. “Don’t you mean, what do I think we should do for Scott’s birthday? He’s the one with all the friends.”

“Separate birthdays this year,” Dad said, clapping a hand on Stiles’ shoulder. “I promise. If that’s what you want, that’s what we’ll do.”

“We can have a double party,” Stiles replied, pretty sure Scott could hear him, even up in Isaac’s room. “It’s tradition at this point.”

Dad gave Stiles a long, almost concerned look, “Well, alright. If that’s what you really want.”

“Sure, Dad.” Stiles put on his best everything-is-fine smile. “That’s exactly what I want. It’ll be great. You’ll see.”

Stiles wasn’t surprised when Scott caught up to him in their room five minutes later. “You okay?”

“No,” Stiles admitted, flopping down onto his bed. “But having my own birthday party with the two people who can still stand me doesn’t sound like much fun. I’d rather mooch off your popularity, as sad as it is to say.”

“You’re-“ Scott said, stopping himself from saying something sure to be a lie. “I mean, there’s lots of people who like you, Stiles!”

“Serial killers,” Stiles said. “Bad guys. I’m pretty sure Peter Hale has some sort of weird fascination with me. Nobody _normal_.”

"When have you ever been concerned with being normal?" Scott asked, laughing when Stiles smacked him upside the head. "I'm just saying, you _do_ have people who care about you."

Nodding, Stiles took a moment to collect his thoughts. Maybe he was blowing this whole Boyd-and-Cora thing out of proportion. "Did it feel this bad when you and Allison were broken up?"

"Yeah," Scott replied softly, his eyes cast downward. "Yeah, it did." After a moment, Scott stood up straighter and got closer to Stiles, putting one hand on each of Stiles' shoulders. "In any case, we'll have an awesome party."

"Mima won't let us throw a kegger, you know." Stiles smiled as best he could at his brother. "But we could probably sneak a bottle of Dad's liquor."

"Probably," Scott agreed with a chuckle. "It'll be cool. I promise."

~*~

Lydia showed up at Stiles' and Scott's birthday party with a small present for each of them. After consulting with Danny – who didn't seem to care that he wasn't invited to the party – she'd bought each of them points for some sort of game, and then wrapped the gift cards in small jewelry boxes. Each box, she'd topped with a bow, green for Scott and blue for Stiles. Not that it made any difference, except in her mind.

Since Lydia had stopped taking her medication, more and more voices started coming out of the woodwork. Like Ms. Blake had said, you kind of got used to tuning them out, but sometimes it was harder than others. Lydia made her mom buy her a white noise machine so she could sleep, turning the volume all the way up until everything drowned out in a haze of static. She wasn't quite sure how overloading her auditory system prevented her brain from picking up on signals from souls halfway in another dimension, but it worked just the same.

On the drive to Scott and Stiles' house, one voice in particular rode along with Lydia, whispering incoherently about something or other. Lydia turned up the radio. 

At the Stilinski house, several other cars already sat in the driveway, so Lydia parked on the street. The sign on the door told her to come right in, so that's what she did, hanging her coat on one of the many hooks near the door. 

Following the noise, Lydia found the party in the living room, Scott, Stiles, Isaac, and Allison already playing some sort of party game on the console attached to the TV. The TV in Lydia's bedroom was bigger than this one, but she knew better than to boast about it at her hosts' birthday party.

“Oh! Hey, Lydia,” Stiles said when he noticed her, abandoning his controller and leaving the other three to their game. “Come on in! Can I get you a drink?”

“Relax, Stiles,” Lydia said, rolling her eyes. “This is your party. I can find my way to a drink just fine by myself.”

Giving a disgusted look over his shoulder at where Isaac had his mouth on Scott’s neck, Stiles replied, “Yeah, no, I’m going with you to the kitchen. _Jesus_.”

Once Lydia had a bottle of water in her hand (apparently they were waiting until the Sheriff had been gone longer than an hour before dipping into the alcohol), an awkward silence settled between her and Stiles. Usually Stiles was the one to break the silence, but he just sort of sat there, leaning back against the kitchen counter, pulling the label off his bottle of soda. Wanting to break the tension, Lydia said, “So…Seventeen, huh?”

“Yeah,” Stiles agreed, giving her a tight, lopsided smile. “And it’s everything I ever dreamed – single, pathetic, and waiting for a crazed druid to come back into our lives and kill someone else I care about.”

Lydia took a look around the kitchen until she settled on a grocery store flyer sitting on the counter nearest the phone. She picked it up and rolled it before stepping closer to Stiles and bopping him on the forehead with it. “Stop that!”

“Hey! Ow. What the hell, Lydia?” Stiles rubbed his forehead with one hand.

“Please. There’s no way that hurt you.” Lydia scoffed and brandished her weapon at him again. “Stop feeling sorry for yourself!”

"Well, why should I?" Stiles asked, his voice raised until he clamped his mouth shut. Tone more moderate, he continued, "I find out that, with some help, I can do all this awesome stuff, right? And like right away, without getting any time to work on it or enjoy it really, I find out that I can't even trust my own girlfriend. Like, what if Cora was dating me just to, I don't know, throw me off the Darach's trail? What if she never liked me?"

"You are pretty awful," Lydia replied. Stiles turned a horrified look on her and Lydia hid her grin behind the mouth of her water bottle.

Stiles laughed. "Shut up. I'm awesome."

"Well, there you go." Lydia finished taking a sip of her water as she watched Stiles grab a handful of chips and start munching on them. As he leaned back against the counter, Lydia saw the outline of Stiles' talisman. She couldn't help but run a finger over the strap of her own. 

"Do you think–" Stiles asked, cutting himself off.

"What?"

Stiles sighed. "Do you want to work together? Like, be the Medium to my Druid or whatever? We could get really good. Protect a lot of people."

Lydia thought about what it would mean, working with Stiles, doing spells like the ones they'd used to fight Kali and the Darach. The thought made her chest tight, like there wasn't enough air to be had. "I don't–" Lydia collected herself with a slow breath. "I don't want to be involved like that. Not if I don't have to be."

"But we'd be–"

"Stiles!" Lydia snapped, holding up a hand. In a calmer voice she said, "Stiles, I just stopped taking my medication. I'm hearing all these voices all the time, and I'm _barely_ holding it together as it is. I can't take any more."

Lydia blinked back the tears in the corners of her eyes and looked away from Stiles' concerned expression. He laid a hand on her arm and Lydia surprised herself by leaning into the touch. "We don't have to," he said, pulling his hand away. "I can work with Ms. Blake. It's just–"

Lydia watched Stiles' face go red. "What?"

Stiles shook his head. 

"No, really? What about Ms. Blake?" Lydia knew there was juicy gossip to be had. No one blushed like that without reason, and Lydia was determined to get to the bottom of it.

"Well." Stiles cleared his throat. "Uh. Well, doing those spells together? It created this like, I don't know, _bond_ or something. And now I can barely be in the same room as her without getting, you know..."

Lydia couldn't help but laugh. "Really? That's too funny. Talk about hot for teacher!"

"Shhh!" Stiles cried, clapping his hand over Lydia's mouth. He smelled like the corn chips he'd just been eating. "Lydia, I swear to God!"

Pulling his hand away from her mouth, Lydia told him, "Relax. I'm not going to tell anyone. Besides, a virgin like you shouldn't have much trouble hiding the fact that you've got the hots for someone. You've obviously done a bang-up job of it so far, if no one's taken the bait."

The frustrated and angry moue on Stiles face made Lydia laugh. Then, she had a thought. Before she could second guess herself, Lydia said, "Happy Birthday, Stiles," and took his face in her hands. She pulled Stiles down into a short, chaste kiss. 

While Stiles reeled from the kiss, Lydia took her water bottle and walked away. Leaving Stiles spluttering in the kitchen held a level of satisfaction that Lydia didn't get much of these days. She smiled.

~*~

Stiles put a hand to his tingling lips. Lydia Martin kissed him. Lydia Martin _kissed_ him! Sure, it was a friendly birthday kiss and it probably meant nothing (Stiles would have to check with her on that), but Lydia Martin kissed Stiles Stilinski and that was the end of it.

The doorbell rang then and Stiles looked up in surprise and confusion. Everyone who'd been invited to the party was already here.

By the time he got back to the family room, Scott was at the door (which still had the come in sign, so why the doorbell?) and he let Derek and Ms. Blake into the house. Derek nodded sharply. "Scott."

"What happened?" Stiles asked, rushing the rest of the way into the room. "Is Kali back? Is it the Darach?"

Derek furrowed his brows at Stiles, but Ms. Blake took a sharp breath and shook her head. "No," she cried quickly, closing the front door behind her. "I mean, not as far as we know? We came to– Well, Derek?"

Derek took a blue envelope from his jacket pocket and handed it to Scott. "Happy Birthday."

Scott looked at Derek like he'd suddenly grown another head and Stiles couldn't blame him. Never, in a million years, would Stiles expect Derek Hale to give Scott a birthday card.

A slow grin spread across Scott's face until he was full-on beaming, taking the card from Derek's hand and opening it. 

Derek didn't watch Scott finish, instead approaching Stiles. Stiles thought Derek might try to shove him out of the way or something. Instead, he took a red envelope out of his jacket. "Jen picked it out."

Stiles blushed at Ms. Blake’s mention and took the envelope. He opened it and found a birthday card with a cartoon cat that actually made him laugh, along with a fifty dollar bill. “Uh. Wow. Okay, thanks, Derek. And,” Stiles cleared his throat. “And Jen.”

Was it possible for a Druid to make the ground swallow him up? Stiles made a mental note to ask Deaton about that next time he was feeling more chatty than not.

"Don't mention it," Jen replied with this smile that made Stiles' cheeks feel even more like they were on fire. Derek gave Stiles a look and that just made everything worse. 

"Sooo," Stiles said, looking at just about everyone there in turn, ending with Lydia. "What do we do now? Finally break out the alcohol?"

"And that's my cue to leave before I do something else to endanger my job," Jen said with a laugh, pulling on Derek's hand. "We'll see you kids later."

Stiles wanted to argue that they weren't kids, not really, and hadn't been since werewolves came to Beacon Hills. Before he could open his mouth to stop Derek and Jen from leaving, Lydia put a hand on Stiles' arm and shook her head at him. They left, Derek giving one weirdly awkward wave over his shoulder, and Stiles did nothing to stop them.

God, how he wanted to stop them. Especially Jen. He could still feel this pathway or trench or something between them into which he _knew_ he could push magic. Stiles wasn't sure what pushing magic into it would do, but he had a strong suspicion that he didn't have the willpower to live with the results. 

Turning to Lydia, Stiles told her, "Quick, get me drunk before I do something stupid."

Lydia just rolled her eyes at him.

Isaac said to Scott, "You know, I think Derek's trying to get on your good side."

Stiles didn't say it, but he thought, _No shit, Sherlock._ Stiles couldn't think of any other reason why Derek would care about Scott's, much less Stiles', birthdays. Besides, Stiles was more than eighty percent sure that Derek was lonely and Jen had coached him into trying to make friends. 

~*~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks, everyone who came back to this fic, and everyone who decided to start it from the beginning! You can come visit me [on tumblr](http://pterawaters.tumblr.com).


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Christmas time in Beacon Hills, and everyone's waiting for the other shoe to drop and for the Darach to make her return.

Scott walked into the mall a few steps behind Stiles, smiling at the sight of all the Christmas decorations. Christmas hadn’t really been the same since Scott’s mima passed away, but it was still a big deal in the Stilinski household. And this year, Scott had an even longer list of people for whom he wanted to buy presents. He looked at all the stores down the length of the mall. “Where first?”

“Fuck if I know.” Stiles kept his hands in his jacket pockets as they walked past the first few stores. “Something for Dad, something for Mima. Maybe something for Lydia.”

“Give it up, dude,” Scott said, clapping Stiles on the shoulder. “I mean, it sucks that things with you and Boyd and Cora didn’t work out, but that doesn’t mean you have to go back to being obsessed with Lydia.”

“Hey, she _kissed_ me. And It’s not like Lydia’s dating anyone,” Stiles said softly, but he sighed after Scott glared at him long enough. “But really, who else is there for me? I can’t really date people who don’t _know_ , you know?”

“No, I don’t know,” Scott said, more because he liked the way it sounded than because he didn’t understand what Stiles was getting at. The uptick of Stiles’ eyebrow told Scott his brother wasn’t buying the bullshit. Scott laughed. “Of anyone in the world _beside_ Lydia, who would you date?”

Stiles led the way into the Game Stop and started poking at the Xbox games. “No other rules?”

“No other rules,” Scott agreed. Scott sort of hated when he had to pull things out of Stiles like this, because he was usually so outspoken, but it was always these important things he kept to himself. Scott consoled himself with the knowledge that only he was able to get Stiles to talk like this.

Under his breath, Stiles said, “Ms. Blake.”

“Our English teacher?” Scott cried, slapping his hand over his mouth when people looked at him. Chagrined, Scott asked in a quieter voice, “Since when? Why didn’t you tell me about this?”

“It’s just-“ Stiles sighed and turned toward the PC games, flipping through ten-year-old everything. “It’s a side effect of the magic we did together at the bowling alley. It’s not real or anything. I just have to ignore it until it goes away.”

Scott modulated his strength carefully when he socked Stiles in the arm. “You should have told me sooner.”

“When? At the house? While Isaac could hear everything we say? At school where it's even worse? Some stuff is private, dude.”

Scott realized Stiles had a point. Damn. Scott had been so wrapped up in everything that was going on, including his new relationship, that he'd been neglecting his own brother. "Okay, point taken. We'll set aside some bro time, I promise."

Stiles grinned. When his grin faded, Scott looked over his shoulder to follow Stiles' line of sight. Ethan walked toward them, so focused he almost ran into a tiny old lady. Scott rushed forward to meet him.

"What are you doing here?" Scott asked, leading Ethan away from the Game Stop entrance so they weren't in the way of other shoppers. "What's going on? Have you heard from Kali?"

"No." Ethan shook his head, eyes meeting Scott's briefly before falling away again. "I haven't heard from her."

"So, what? What's the problem?" Stiles asked, flanking Scott so he was blocking them from view.

Ethan glared at Stiles, but he answered the question. "I was getting a frozen yogurt and I heard you, so…"

Scott couldn't help but chuckle. "So, you're just saying hi?"

"No!" Ethan clenched his jaw and looked down at his shoes. "Maybe. Look, I'm out here all on my own and–"

"Maybe you should have thought of that," Scott said, getting an encouraging look from Stiles, "before you helped kidnap and kill my friends."

Ethan had the good sense to look chagrined and Stiles squeezed Scott's shoulder in support. After a moment, Ethan took a breath and asked, "What would _you_ do if your mother told you someone was a threat to your family? Would you question it, or would you take out the threat?"

"Erica was only slightly threatening!" Stiles cried. "She'd _just_ turned sixteen!"

Scott held his brother back, because other shoppers started to look over at them. Addressing Ethan, he said, "Look, you can be on our side–"

Stiles made a noise of protest, but Scott ignored him.

"But you can't be a part of my pack."

"Isn't that Derek's decision?" Ethan smirked and Scott had to clench his fist and take a deep breath so he wouldn't do something stupid, like punch Ethan during broad daylight. 

"He's even _less_ likely to take you in," Stiles said and Scott nodded in agreement.

"Though maybe if you prove yourself willing to _work_ for it..." Scott grinned and patted Ethan on the shoulder as he passed, leading Stiles away from him. Ethan didn't call after him and Stiles fell into step beside Scott easily enough.

Scott hoped he'd handled the situation well. It certainly felt like he had. The pride made Scott smile to himself as he headed toward the first store actually on his shopping list.

~*~

Phone in her hand, Allison reread Isaac's last text, smiling to herself. She pushed her way into the florist shop, a warmth spreading through her chest at the feeling of being loved. It hadn't felt this way with her exes. Scott and Isaac were different, they fit together well, and together, they fit her well. Allison felt like maybe she was actually getting what she deserved for once.

As Christmas approached, the first one without her mother, Allison tried to do everything she could to make the holiday special. While Mom was around, she'd decorated the house impeccably. Allison and her dad tried putting up the artificial tree and the lights, but it just wasn't the same without the dozen poinsettias Mom always bought to strew around the house. And Allison couldn't forget the mistletoe over the doorway heading into the kitchen. It was tradition.

When the front counter sat empty, Allison paused. Things had been relatively normal in Beacon Hills for so long that Allison kept expecting something to go wrong. Her heart hammered in her chest as Allison put her hand on the gun in her purse and stepped forward carefully. "Hello?"

A middle-aged lady called from the doorway that had to lead to a back room. "Hello! I'll be right there."

Sighing, Allison told herself to relax. This was just a minor errand, and there was no need to get all worked up. She let go of the gun in her purse and leaned forward onto the counter, looking at the refrigerated case beyond. It was filled with roses and other various flowers. Allison had to admit, she liked the bouquets of dried flowers hanging around the shop a lot better than she liked the fancy flowers in the case.

Well, if anyone were to give Allison roses, it's not like she would refuse them. 

Allison started wondering what the hell to buy Scott for christmas, whether he'd ever like flowers or not, when the shop lady came back to the counter.

"What can I do for you, dear?"

Allison rattled off her poinsettia order, letting the lady write it down. "Oh, and a sprig or two of mistletoe. You know, 'tis the season!"

The lady's face fell. "Oh, I'm so sorry! We don't have any mistletoe."

"Oh." Allison tried not to frown too hard. She could have sworn her mother bought mistletoe from the florist. "But florists usually carry it, right? Like, I could ask another store if they have some?"

"They won't," she said, and Allison began to sigh in defeat. The florist held up her hands, waving them around a little. “Oh! It’s not that we don’t carry mistletoe.”

“It’s not?” Allison asked, puzzled by the almost worried look on the woman’s face.

Shaking her head, the florist pointed to an empty shelf in the case behind her. “And it’s not that we sold out this early in the season. It’s that somebody went and stole all of it!”

“They stole _mistletoe_?” A knot settled in Allison’s gut, telling her that something was not right, and not just in a mundane, non-supernatural way. “W-who would do that?”

“I don’t know.” The woman sighed. “It’s happened all over. The Sheriff department’s looking into it. They hit all the florist shops in the county and several of the delivery trucks, all for some stinking _mistletoe_.”

“Well,” Allison said, digging her wallet out of her purse. “I guess I’ll just go with the poinsettias, then.”

As she left, Allison texted her dad. **Semi-emergency. Where are you?**

The wait for her dad’s return text took too long, Allison sitting and drumming her hands nervously on the steering wheel. What could it be? What sort of _thing_ needed that much mistletoe? Was it eating the stuff? Was it a holiday-themed sort of monster? Allison knew mistletoe was poisonous. Was someone trying to distill all of the mistletoe into a poison for murderous purposes? It didn’t make any sense! You could get better poisons at any grocery store.

While she waited, Allison texted Lydia, **I need you to look up everything you can find about mistletoe.** She held off on texting Scott, even though he could probably ask Deaton for some answers. Allison needed to know she wasn’t being stupid before she told this to Scott.

Lydia didn’t take long to text back. **Aren’t you already getting enough kisses?** Allison felt pretty sure that meant Lydia was on it. 

Finally, after almost fifteen minutes sitting in the florist’s parking lot, Allison’s dad texted her back, giving her the name, “Louie’s” and an intersection. It wasn’t far away, so Allison took a deep breath, stowed her phone in her purse, and drove. 

It was probably just some random prank, right? Some elaborate dare. Teenagers being stupid. Allison was just blowing things out of proportion because it had been so long since they’d encountered any real threat. 

Man, she really was an adrenaline junkie, wasn’t she? Looking for trouble where there wasn’t any.

When she got to “Louie’s”, which ended up being a little hole-in-the-wall restaurant, Allison noticed her dad’s car right away. She almost drove away again, thinking she might want to hear what Lydia came up with before going to tell her father about something that was probably nothing. What changed her mind was the knowledge that if she didn’t show up soon, her dad would just come looking for her anyway.

Allison parked her car in the one remaining spot and went into the restaurant. There was a counter with stools lined up along it, and Allison thought she might find her father there, but she didn’t. In fact, she couldn’t see him at all from the door. 

She did, however, see Sheriff Stilinski. 

Oh, no. Oh, no, no, no. 

Scott and Isaac had filled Allison in on what they’d witnessed between Scott’s dad and Allison’s, and this looked like it could be more of the same. Perhaps it was even a date?

Grimacing, Allison edged forward, and as she approached she could see curly black hair. Great, Scott’s mom was here, too. It had to be a date. 

Or, maybe they were just meeting as friends? As the only three parents who knew about werewolves?

In a cozy little restaurant. Sure. Right. Totally platonic was all this could be.

“Allison!” Sheriff Stilinski said when he saw her, making Mrs. Stilinski turn around to look. Allison gave them an awkward smile and a wave, stepping close enough to see that her dad was here, sitting with his back to the door. When did he ever sit with his back to the door?

Smiling far too brightly, Allison’s dad asked, “What’s up? What’s the ‘semi-emergency’?” Allison had to admit, she hadn’t seen light like this in her father’s eyes since before they moved to Beacon Hills. Okay, maybe she could get on board with the whole dating thing. Maybe.

“Oh,” she said, grasping onto the strap of her purse just to have something to do with her hands. “It’s-it’s probably nothing.”

“In _this_ town?” Mrs. Stilinski asked, making the Sheriff chuckle.

Nodding, Allison took a deeper breath. She could do this. She could believe in her hunch well enough to at least bring it to the attention of someone who might know more. “Someone’s been stealing all the mistletoe. I went to the florist just now and she said it’s been stolen all over the county.”

Both other adults looked at the Sheriff, who shrugged. “Was I supposed to know mistletoe was important? They were all smash and grabs, very inexpert. Working theory is kids.”

“But why so _much_ mistletoe?” Allison asked. “And why that one plant and not others? I don’t– I’ve got a bad feeling about it is all.”

Allison’s dad caught the Sheriff’s eye and they shared a little nod. Looking back to Allison, he said, “We’ll look into it, sweetie. Thanks.”

She started to turn away at the obvious dismissal in her father’s voice, but Allison’s curiosity wouldn’t allow it. She just had to ask. “Are you on a date?”

The way her dad’s ears went red and Mrs. Stilinski coughed was almost gratifying to make up for hearing her dad’s answer. “Yeah. And we’d like to continue, so…”

Allison couldn’t help but grin. Very deliberately, she said, “Okay, well I’m going over to _Lydia’s_. I’ll probably spend the night. So, you know, the apartment will be empty.”

The Sheriff choked on his soda and Mrs. Stilinski laughed so loud, she seemed surprised by it, covering her mouth. Allison’s dad frowned at her and Allison took _that_ as her final cue to leave.

Besides, if the adults ended up at the apartment, that meant there would be no one at Scott’s place to tell her to go home.

~*~

As the bell rang, Jen called out to the class, "Remember, everyone! Your essays are due by the end of class tomorrow. I'm going to be grading them over my own winter break, so the least you can do for me is turn them in on time. Okay?"

A few of the students smiled or chuckled, but most of them ignored her. Scott and Lydia left together, and Jen was surprised when Stiles didn't follow them. Instead he dithered around at his desk, packing and unpacking his backpack. 

Jen went up to him, ignoring the way her hand wanted to drift up to touch his arm. "Stiles?"

"Hey," he said, giving her a crooked grin without really meeting her eyes. "I, uh. I wanted to ask you something."

Jen watched the way Stiles' eyes moved, never quite landing in one place for long. "This isn't about the essay, is it?"

"What?" Stiles asked, picking at the strap on his backpack. "No, I already emailed that to you. This is more like, well..." Stiles sighed. "I need a favor."

Jen watched Stiles face, hoping to high heaven that he wasn't about to ask her to buy him alcohol or take his virginity or something else completely inappropriate. "What sort of favor?"

Stiles winced and looked at Jen with one eye closed. "So, the Darach? Might be coming back."

Jen's heart dropped into her stomach. "How–" she began, her voice sticking in her throat. "How do you know that?"

"Technically, I don't," Stiles said, tilting his head in an off-kilter nod. "But someone stole all the mistletoe and–"

"Mistletoe?" Jen laughed. Who would want to steal mistletoe?

Stiles' nostrils flared. "Yeah. All of it. If that doesn't scream evil druid, I don't know what does."

"Maybe–" Jen offered, trying to think of any explanation other than the Darach coming back. "Maybe it was just someone desperate to get kissed?"

Stiles scoffed and looked up through his lashes at her. Jen kicked herself for noticing them. 

"Not that I don't sympathize with the sentiment," Stiles said, motioning to himself, "but stealing like ten shipments of the stuff is going a little overboard, don't you think?" 

Jen wanted to argue with him, to tell Stiles that of course he was attractive, but that would be overstepping a boundary she did not want to cross. Instead, Jen made a hum of agreement, looking down at her books. Books were safe to look at. They didn't have parents who would press charges. "What sort of favor did you want? I don't know anything about these thefts."

"No, there's these protective spells I've been researching. They dampen the ability of anyone looking to do harm. I can't–" Stiles sighed. "I can't do them on my own."

"Lydia can't help you?" Jen thought maybe she shouldn't be this eager to foist this responsibility onto a sixteen year old, but she knew what the last round of spells did to her, how they made her feel about Stiles.

Stiles shook his head. "She doesn't want anything to do with this."

Jen was about to ask Stiles what made him think she _did_ want anything to do with this, but then it struck her. Lydia was just a child. Jen was the adult here. Jen had a responsibility to Lydia and everyone else. If she could protect them, and the only other person who could help was a child, then Jen had to agree. Not helping and being responsible for more destruction would be so much worse than simply having to deal with inappropriate feelings for one of her students.

"Okay," Jen said with a sigh. "Yeah, okay. Let's do it."

Stiles let out a rush of air he must have been holding. "Okay, good. That's good. Now we just need to find our werewolf. I'm sure Scott–"

"No." Jen winced, but she didn't back down from her objection. "I mean, Scott's great. He's your brother. But he's also a child. A student. I'd feel much better, more comfortable, with Derek as our third." Jen realized how that sounded and her face went hot. "I mean, as our werewolf. That's what I meant...by that."

Stiles nodded, his cheeks pinker than usual as well. "Yeah, okay. That could work. We should probably do a practice spell or two beforehand, to make sure we work together well."

Nodding, Jen asked, "Are you sure we need to practice? Can't we just do it and be done?"

Stiles shook his head. "No, we _have_ to get it right exactly on the winter solstice. Otherwise we'd have to wait until spring, and I don't know about you, but when I think spring, I think baseball and fluffy bunnies, not evil Druids."

Jen sighed, but she gave Stiles a nod. If they had to get this right the first time, they'd better make sure they were all compatible. "I'll talk to Derek when I get home."

"He'll probably say yes," Stiles replied. When Jen raised an eyebrow at him, Stiles explained, "Derek likes to feel like he's protecting Beacon Hills. He'll do whatever it takes."

"That does kinda sound like him." Jen chuckled, her chest feeling warm when Stiles smiled fondly. "Maybe I can lure him with the promise of saving anyone else from the Darach." Her hand rose up, fingering the leather string around her neck that held the sachet Stiles had given her weeks ago. "He still dreams about what he did."

Wide-eyed, Stiles said, "It wasn't him. You have to make him realize it wasn't him doing those things."

"I'm _trying_." Jen huffed in frustration and then took a deep, calming breath with her eyes closed. When she opened them again, Stiles had his head bowed.

"Sorry," he said, reaching out and putting his hand over Jen's. 

He gasped at the same time a wave of heat and a distinct feeling of contrition rushed through Jen's body, making her gasp as well. Stiles pulled his hand back like he'd been burned.

"Shit, sorry. Sorry," Stiles cried, balling up his fists and holding them at his sides. "I just leaked feelings at you, didn't I?"

Nodding, Jen said, "Something like that."

"I'll work on my control."

The fact that Stiles _could_ control this thing between them was news to Jen. It made her think maybe, if Stiles could keep these feelings to himself somehow, that she could work with him without crossing any boundaries. "Yes. Yes, please work on that. I'll talk to Derek and get back to you tomorrow."

"Right." Stiles looped his thumbs into the straps of his backpack and gave Jen a final nod, just as the bell rang. He looked up, like he was surprised so much time had passed. "Crap. I'm late for Physics."

Smiling, Jen told him, "Don't worry. I can write you a hall pass."

"Right! Because you're …" Stiles paused, stretching his face into an odd sort of wince. "A _teacher_. You're a teacher. Not–" Stiles cleared his throat and pressed his chin to his chest. "No, yeah. A pass would be great."

Jen allowed herself to laugh a little and pulled the pad of pre-printed hall passes from her desk drawer.

~*~

When Derek agreed to doing this ritual with Jennifer and Stiles, he didn't know he'd be forced to sit in Jen's apartment, holding hands with both Jen and Stiles, and wearing a weird wreath of leaves around his neck.They kept making him sneeze.

"Okay," Stiles said, squeezing Derek's hand and meeting Jen's eyes and then Derek's. "It's almost midnight. Let's do this."

Derek took deep breath and let it out, closing his eyes. He tried to focus on his own breath, and on letting Stiles take what he needed to do the spell.

When they'd tried at Deaton's place, it hadn't quite worked the first time.

"Derek," Deaton had said, "you need to let your walls down. You need to allow yourself to help Stiles and Jennifer. Give them your strength."

Now it was the Winter Solstice and this whole plan was on the line. Derek had gotten the hang of letting everything fall away, eventually. He still had his doubts coming into this now. What if it was his fault it wouldn't work? What if he should have spent less time trying to unlace the webs of guilt he kept wrapped around himself and spent more time convincing Stiles and Jennifer to go to Scott? 

Since it was too late for what ifs, Derek willed himself relax. When he felt Stiles pulling on him, he let go, trusting Stiles not to use that power, the same power that let Derek change into his other form, for anything other than this protection spell.

"It's working," Stiles muttered under his breath, his pull on Derek's magic steady. 

From Jennifer's side, Derek felt her power enter through his arm, crawling up toward his chest. It made his entire body flush warm and before he could stop it, his teeth elongated and his eyes flashed with power.

Energy flowed through Derek's body from Jen to Stiles and back again, building up and up and up. The terrible ecstasy of it overwhelmed Derek and he growled, but he couldn't shake himself free.

"The spell!" Stiles cried, and Derek wasn't sure he'd heard Stiles with his ears, or directly in his mind. In either case, Derek channeled his efforts away from staying in control, away from keeping himself from drowning in the feedback eddies of the magic all around them. Instead, he focused on the intent of the spell: protection. 

As soon as Derek let go fully, everything slotted into place. Instead of feeling like he couldn't breathe, like he was drowning under the weight of an endless sea of emotion, Derek grew calm. His teeth retracted along with his claws, and Derek's heart filled to bursting with something like affection. Love. 

Jen and Stiles both sat bathed in bright white light, Jen's hair rising around her head in a halo and Stiles' mouth wide open in a happy laugh. A laugh bubbled up from Derek's throat as well, echoed by Jennifer. 

As the light faded and Derek watched Jen's hair fall, and felt his own clothes settle back onto his body, a different, darker feeling rushed through Derek. His mouth watered and his cock stirred in his pants. He fought the urge to pull on both the hands he held, the urge to demand rushed, hot sex right _the fuck_ then and there.

Scared by the urgency of the feeling, Derek shook his hand away from Stiles' and then Jen's, scrambling to his feet and backing away from them. With a little distance it became easier to take a few deep breaths and control his body the way he was used to doing. It felt a lot like putting up those walls Deaton spoke about.

Grasping the wreath at his neck, Derek asked, "Is that it? Is it done?"

Stiles swallowed, his pupils blown wide and black. "Yeah. Yeah, it's done."

Derek pulled the wreath off and watched as Stiles stood shakily, reaching out toward Derek. Before Derek could reach back, Jennifer stood between the two of them.

"We'll go," Jennifer said, taking Derek's hand (a spark of static jumped between the two of them, making Derek's skin ache) and pulling him away from Stiles. "You should stay here, Stiles."

"This is your house," he pointed out, taking half a step forward before stopping abruptly and shoving his hands under his armpits. "But, I can stay here if you want."

"Take a few minutes," Jen told him, pushing Derek toward the door. "Cool off. We'll take a walk around the block, give you a chance to get going."

"Oh, uh." Stiles nodded, but his heart beat kept beating rapidly, like he was nervous, or–

Oh. Oh, this unexpected arousal wasn't just a thing Derek was suffering with. It affected all of them, if Jen's heart beat meant what Derek thought it did. He almost pushed back against her to get back into the room, to follow through with what his body craved. Then Derek realized that he wasn't in any position to be making decisions like that. He let Jen push him further out of the apartment.

"See you later, Stiles," Jen said, her tight smile evident in her voice. She hesitated once, and Derek found the strength to wrap his arm around her and draw her away.

"Bye!" Stiles cried after them.

As soon as they were out of earshot, Derek asked, "What was that?"

"It happened kind of like that before," Jennifer answered, leading Derek out of the building. "After we fought the Darach, there were…" She paused, pressing her lips together and avoiding Derek's gaze. "Well, there were lingering _effects_."

"You...and _Stiles_?" Derek followed Jennifer around the corner. "You…"

Jen rolled her eyes at Derek. "Do I look like I'm stupid? No, you know what? Don't answer that."

Derek breathed a sigh of relief. 

"We just have to be…" Jen sighed and folded her hand into Derek's. Another zap of electricity jumped between them and Derek got distracted by the way the street lamp lit the curve of Jen's cheek. "We have to be careful around Stiles, is all. He's only seventeen."

It took Derek a moment to process what Jen said, but when he did, he nodded in agreement. "Right. You're right. We'll avoid him."

"You know what we _should_ do?" Jen turned and grinned at Derek, catching his other arm and pulling him close. "We should take a trip. Go somewhere else for Christmas."

"What if we're needed here? I'm the alpha." Derek breathed in and found Jen's scent more than a little appealing. He backed her against a shop window and breathed deeper. His body flushed and he wanted to press closer to her, so close that there was no space between the two of them.

"The protection spell worked," Jen said, pulling Derek down into a kiss. "We won't go too far."

Derek kissed Jen slowly, allowing himself to enjoy being this close to her. Derek didn't have anyone closer. Laura was dead, Peter was … _Peter_. Jennifer was here and real and _alive_. "Okay." He kissed her again and pulled back, keeping Jen's hand in his. "But we're not staying at the Glen Capri."

Jen laughed and pressed a kiss against Derek's jaw. "Deal."

When they got back to Jen's apartment, Stiles' Jeep was gone, and so was he. Derek tried to tell himself not to be disappointed, because what he was feeling wasn't real. It couldn't be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ha, ha! This fic lives! There's at least four more chapters after this one, and I'll be writing them in between all my other writing commitments. I'm determined to see this fic to the end!


End file.
